Dead Spark
by JubeiYagyuSama
Summary: A young vampire escapes her master's hellish slavery, only to find the world MUCH different than what she left it. The world of Shadowrun as seen through the eyes of the bloodsucking dead... Light angst, heavy character development.
1. Requiem for Ruthven

**This is an older, frozen story of mine. It goes for quite a few chapters, but I ended up slowing down and stopping in the end. Hopefully by posting it here, I can reawaken the muse. All reviews welcome!**

CHAPTER 1: REQUIEM FOR RUTHVEN

I was hungry again. The others were stronger, faster, and master had not fed them in a long time. The last time, I'd been pushed, bitten, and held down while the others feasted… Pet had gotten the biggest share, and Darling and Dearest had licked up the rest. It hadn't lasted long, and there was nothing left for me.

It was hard to think when I was hungry. Easier just to feel. Easier to be nothing but empty belly and WANT.

But a part of me wanted to keep thinking. Even after all this time, it wouldn't let me fall. Even after all that had happened to me, I couldn't just let it go into madness. There were days I hated myself for that. Madness would have been easy.

And so I sat, chained to Master's throne, filthy and naked, hunched over and waiting.

Master's throne was made of metal, old steel and junk welded together. There were large chains that lead off of it, four of them, ending in collars that were welded around our necks. The collars were strong metal, even stronger than Pet. She'd tried the hardest to get free, early on. She'd almost broken it, but Master had caught her, and almost broken HER. Now whenever she caught one of us trying it, she'd break our fingers. Then she'd wait a minute for them to heal and break them again. I got the message the first time, but she didn't stop. She didn't care, she just liked hurting me.

There were four of us. Pet, Darling, Dearest, and Me. He called me Honey. It wasn't my name. My name was Julia. Julie.

I didn't say that, though. I just thought it. He used to hurt me when I said my real name. Now I don't, and he finds fewer reasons to hurt me. I just shut up and keep quiet and let him do what he wants.

The other three were in the same state I was, only they'd stopped trying to stay sane long ago. They were like animals, long-toothed, red-eyed, and hungry. If I got too close they'd bite, and bites take forever to heal. And the other three were older and bigger than I was.

I didn't like to think that I probably looked a lot like them. I was different.

Wasn't I?

The room never changed. It had concrete walls, a low wooden ceiling, and three doors. It was big, and there were crates piled around it. Occasionally one of Master's pet gangers would come in through the first door, and clean it a little. They'd bring in a hose and spray us, wetting the floor under us, and cleaning it of the crust and filth that accumulated. Our bowels had stopped working years ago, but we were messy eaters, and the remains of past meals built up. Grates in the floors took care of the outflow, burbling and gulping with their own hunger.

The second door was bolted shut. Occasionally Master would walk through it… He did this thing where he stood still and his body melted into fog, and he'd drift through cracks in the bolted door. No one else ever went back there. No one could, really.

Visitors usually came in through the third door. Not many of them… I had no idea how long I had been down here, but it seemed like there were long stretches between visitors. A very few of them were like Master. Most were just regular people, and some of those he let us eat. Some were suits, all cold and all business, and those he fawned over. They would look at us and their lips would twist, but they wouldn't do anything. We were disgusting to them, and I hated them for that.

My ears were very sharp. I could usually hear people coming before the third door. This time was no exception. Master was walking with them, and talking. I moved slightly, to get a better angle, and ignored the feral stares of Pet and her sisters. I could almost make out the words…

"…Is a factor, you understand. If the shipment's not received by Thursday, then we're going to have to assume that you've broken faith." It was a male voice, hoarse from some kind of damage. Overuse, or maybe smoking?

"Of course, gentlemen. And lady. But the fact remains your concerns are irrelevant. It will arrive long before Thursday. Black Tom listens very carefully to me, and I shall assure him of your need. You've made the best choice possible, by coming to me. Lord Ruthven delivers. EVERYONE who's ANYONE knows that Lord Ruthven delivers." That was Master. His voice was high, a little too high for his overly fleshed body. But no one ever laughed at his voice, or his top hat, or his ridiculous cane. The ones that did, ended up as our food.

Pet shifted, glanced back at me. I nodded, and her teeth stretched into a clotted brown-and-red grin. She could tell that I had heard something, and I'd just confirmed it. Master was coming. Maybe with food. The hunger rumbled in me at the thought, shaking my bones and making my teeth grow. Please let the other voice be food…

I shook it off and concentrated again. I'd missed a bit of the conversation.

"…esting name, Lord Ruthven. Where did you take it from?" This was a different voice. Female, older than me. Than I was, anyway.

"Ah, well, it's actually from an old story. A British Gothic, actually, but I'd be surprised if you understood the reference."

"One a' da old tragedies, ya? Were ever'one an' their muther ends up dyin'?" Strange accent. Couldn't place it. Male, younger than the first one, the hoarse one.

"Yes, you're not far off, really. Quite gloomy, much like my place of business, I'm afraid."

"I've seen worse." The hoarse man again.

"Perhaps. But as we are just entering this business relationship, I feel compelled to impress upon you the severity of upholding your end of things."

The third door opened with a CLUNK, and Darling and Dearest snapped their heads up. There was Master, in his suited glory. A wide, short man wearing old-fashioned clothes, with spotless white gloves on his pudgy hands. Ridiculous, when you saw him. But once you looked in those red, red eyes you could see the dark thing that writhed inside of him. It was the same thing that moved inside of me, Pet, and the others, too. He'd given us his gift, and never again would anything ever be the same…

We all pulled back in a jingling of chains, as he leveled his cane at us. "That, my new colleagues, is the price of betrayal. I'm not adverse to adding a few more to my favorite chair. Just something to keep in mind."

The three people behind him spread out, and I had faces to put to voices. The woman was short, squat but pretty. I knew she was a dwarf… My mind was too muddled to put a meaning to that, but I knew she wasn't human. She wore casual clothes, and had something like a crystal visor over her eyes.

The one with the accent was green, and had two long teeth poking out from his lower jaw, grazing against his upper lip. Big man, hard to tell how old he was. He wore a leather jacket that I could possibly use as a tent. There was a bandanna on his bald head, and he looked a little like one of Master's gangers. There were bulges under that jacket, and I wasn't surprised. Like the short woman, I knew he wasn't human, but an ork. Whatever that was.

The hoarse one had close-cropped graying hair. He was tall too, but a head shorter than his green friend. He was wearing a suit, and had a burn scar on his right cheek. HE was human, at least. He moved funny, just a bit too quick.

But then I lost my chance to reflect… When Master waved his cane, Pet, Dearest, and Darling backed up, hissing and I had to back up before they trampled me. Many times he'd beaten us with that cane, and it left bruises that smoked and bubbled. They feared the cane. I feared it too.

When I got clear of the other three, I got a clearer look at the visitors. The big green one looked angry. The other two… They just watched us with empty eyes. And the scarred human was nodding, like we had been expected. Something wasn't right.

Master was turning, smiling, to get a look at their reactions, and their empty faces brought him up cold. "Do… You like my brides, perhaps?"

The short woman smiled. There was no warmth in it. "Thanks for the confirmation. Oh, and here's the advance fee." She held up a short black cylinder.

I couldn't see his face, but I could tell by his body language, Master was confused. Still, he stretched out a hand to accept it. "We didn't negotiate an advance fee, but if you-"

The woman flicked her wrist, and the cylinder came apart. Almost faster than I could see, a tiny cord flicked out of it, toward Master. THROUGH Master!

"Gh…" He said, and his head slid into two pieces, as he fell to the floor. The scent of old blood hit the air, and I tensed. The hunger pushed at me, but I pushed it back. What was going on here?

The woman talked into the air. "Confirmed, five cadavers. Dropped one, initiating-"

"MYRA!" The scarred man yelled, as he whipped his suit coat open and pulled out a thin blade, but it was too late. Master had sat up from the floor, half his head still off, and plunged his cane through her belly. She shrieked and fell over, and Master blurred into afterimages… But so did the older man. The green-skinned man cursed and fell back as Master's fists struck him, but he rolled with it, bounced off the wall, and came up with two big looking guns in his hands. He tracked and fired BAMBAMBAM, and I ducked. A round hit Pet, and she fell shrieking.

Then I blinked, and the scarred man had Master by the throat, ignoring the hands tearing at his suit, the stranger shoved his thin-bladed knife between Master's ribs, again and again, moving almost as fast as his victim. With a grunt, Master slumped. I could smell his wounds smoking from here… What was that knife?

Then another small noise registered on my ears, a gentle clicking. And I looked over to see the small cylinder, whole once again, rolling toward me. I glanced over to look at the fallen dwarf woman, but she was out of it, clutching at the cane sticking out of her guts. I glanced back at Master. The two men had him on the floor now, clutching his face as they beat him, then the smell of blood hit my nose. The woman's blood… Everything started fading to red, and with the last bit of my will I scooped up the cylinder, and put it behind the throne.

And then there was no room in me for anything but hunger…

I don't know how long it was, before I came back to myself. I was tumbling, knocked sprawling and brought up short, the collar snapping against my neck painfully as I blinked and curled into a ball. I blinked and looked up, and saw Pet, hissing, as she held the limp form of one of Master's ganger servants up to her mouth, and tore at his neck, worrying it, gorging on the sweet blood. Behind her, Darling and Dearest were ripping another to shreds.

I mopped my own face, and my hand came away bloody. I licked it clean as I considered… Yep, there were several bites on the one Pet was worrying. Of course she'd pushed me off, I was the runt. Wait. What were Master's servants doing here?

I turned my head, and saw four more sprawled over the room, bleeding into the grates. Some of the crates were broken and shattered, and the smell of gunpowder was in the air. The big green man… No, he was an ork. Now that I'd fed, I could think clearer. I remembered the word, he was an ork. The ork was leaning against the wall, bleeding, and holstering his guns.

"Arch! Throw in another one!" I turned, and saw the scarred man staring directly at me. I flinched back. He was digging Master's cane into Master's body, working it into his chest. Smoke was rising from Master's form. Then the ork limped over, picked up another ganger body, and threw it at my feet. I ignored it and stared at him.

"Who are you?" My voice cracked, it had been so long since I used it. He looked surprised, and half-opened his mouth. Then a noise to my right drew my attention, and I turned just in time to see the other man finish fixing something to the throne. It looked like a thermos with wires… He'd moved across the room faster than I could track, and planted that thing in the span of about three seconds. He glared at me, through sunglasses, and pulled out that thin knife again. I moved back to the end of the chain.

The knife was wood, I noticed. Just bloody, splintered wood. Then Darling hissed, and the man blurred, easily moving back to his former position as she lunged at him.

For a while, I stared at them. The three others went back to lapping at the ganger corpses, and Pet dragged the fresh body over, sitting on it while she drained it.

The two men stared back. I crossed my arms over my nakedness, and hunched down. "What are you doing?" I whispered. My eyes flicked around the chamber, and I saw the small woman, lying still by the third door. The first door had holes in it, bullet holes I knew. The gangers must've attacked from there…

"Payin' the rent, kid. Dat's all. Sorry 'bout dis…" The human whipped up a hand, stopping the ork mid-rumble. "No. Don't speak to it. Just makes it harder in the end."

The ork shook his head. "Drek, Miles, she's just a kid. Look at'er! That Ruthven frakker-"

"NO!" Miles shouted, and SHOVED him. Even though the ork had at least a hundred pounds on him, he went backward a good five feet, falling into some broken crates. "The smart ones are DANGEROUS, and don't forget that. And now this one knows my name. There's nothing we can do for her, except finish the job."

He looked at me, and clenched his hand. I saw my reflection in his sunglasses… A filthy, scared teen with short frizzy black hair and a frame thinned by bulimia. And I saw no hope in his stare, no mercy in his face. "It's a husk, that's all. The real part of it died when she did."

The ork sighed. "Gothic tragedy, yep. Ever'one an' dere mudder dies. I'll get Myra. Got da charge set?"

Charge? What was- Memory intervened, blood charging up a starved brain, and I got it. Oh DREK.

"Please!" My voice was thin, scratchy. "Please, don't do this. My name is Julie! I didn't do anything, he just took me! I've been here I don't know how long-"

The ork just turned and left, scooping up the dwarf with gentle arms. He cast one last glance over at me, shaking his head as he went out the way he'd come.

I stared at the scarred man, as he pulled a spray-can from his coat, and started covering the floor in some lines of foam, looping it over crates, up on the ceiling. It smelled horrible, like chemicals and dung. He paid no attention to anything that I said to him, and when he was done he left, following his friend.

A charge meant a bomb. Frak! In a few minutes or less, that thermos thing would go off. That foam probably wasn't good, either. I didn't know if I could heal from being blown up.

I looked at Pet and her two sisters. They were gorged, still slurping at the corpses. They had to be full by now, but they licked on. They'd be no help.

And I looked at the cylinder, back behind the throne. Hmm… Moving fast, I picked it up and examined it. There was a tiny button on the bottom, and I pushed it. With a small "snk" noise, the end fell off, pulling that tiny cord with it. I gasped as the cord twisted, and brushed against my finger, and I watched my fingertip fall to the floor. Pain flared and I dropped the cylinder… As soon as I let go of the button the cord retracted, pulling the end of it closed again.

Sucking at the slightly bleeding stump of my finger, I felt it regrowing, bone and all, as I considered the cylinder. Sharp enough for bone. Sharp enough for chains?

As it turns out the cord was sharp enough to handle chains, and with a little quickly-healed slices on the side of my neck, it took care of the collar as well. I ran, stumbling out into the room, and sobbed in relief. Finally, FINALLY, I could get free… No, wait.

I looked at the first door. No clue where that went. Could be more gangers, and I doubted they would be happy to see me. I looked at the third door… No. Master's killers had left that way. They knew how to kill him, they'd know how to kill me. If I ran into them I was dead.

The thought turned in my head, and I glared over at Master's body. It was still lying there, but had stopped smoking some time ago. His own cane was speared through his chest like some grotesque flag, An evil little cane, for an evil little bastard. I nudged him with my foot and he didn't move, so I spat on his face. "Goodbye, 'Master.' Rot in hell, you twisted frakker."

Then the thermos started beeping. Not good!

Okay. Doors one and three were out. Door two? Looking better. I jogged over to it, and stared at it… Metal, rusty, bolted shut… I tried the bolts and they didn't budge. I couldn't tell, but they seemed welded. Not good, not good…

Maybe… I closed my eyes, and thought of fog. Mist. Thought of dispersing my body, thought of floating away, becoming like air…

…And opened my eyes. Still nothing. Still the same door, and I hadn't moved.

The beeping got louder. I gingerly took the end of the cylinder between two fingers of my left hand, and hit the button with my newly-regrown right index finger. The cord spooled out, and with gentle, easy motions I tried to use it to trim through the bolts. It took the longest ten seconds of my life, but finally with the last bolt gone I could force the door open. There was a short corridor beyond, and a hole in the floor that disappeared into darkness.

As I started down, I heard a low growl, and I looked back to see Pet at the end of her chain, pawing at me. Darling and Dearest were just behind her, glaring like angry cats. I looked in Pet's eyes and I saw rage that she was bound and I was not, and I knew that even if I were inclined to cut her loose, she'd hurt me for doing what she couldn't.

I shook my head. "No. No one gets to hurt me, not anymore."

The beeping stopped. I screamed, and ran.

I barely got through the hole as a fiery wave rushed over me, and I fell, burning and shrieking into the darkness…


	2. Moon Knows the Way

**I figure I'll post one chapter a day, until we reach the end of the written chapters. After that, we'll see. Maybe the muse will cooperate, maybe not.**

**Oh, and by the way I do not own Shadowrun or aim to make any money from them as a result of this story. The setting is used without the permission of the appropriate corps, and is simply an exercise in amusement. Please don't sue me.**

**CHAPTER 2: MOON KNOWS THE WAY**

The filthy water at the bottom of the hole was a mixed blessing. On one hand, it put me out before I could burn to death. The damage probably wasn't bad… Hurt like hell, but I could feel the burns healing. On the other hand, I was drowning. The water was also pushing me along, flowing at a pretty high rate of speed. I was tumbling like a bug in a garden hose, bouncing off of metal and stone, with no real control. I was in a pipe, I figured. Somewhere along the way I'd lost the cylinder. That was annoying, but I had other problems at the minute.

A lot of people will tell you we don't need air, we don't breathe. That's false, we need air just like anyone else. I found that out early on, when Master had a period of time where he enjoyed strangling me. And right now, at that moment in the pipe my vision was starting to fade out just like it had when he'd first choked me to unconsciousness. Not good.

Then the pressure was gone, and I realized that I'd come out into a larger body of water. I tasted salt… I looked around with fading vision, and saw a junk-littered seafloor, with concrete and moldering wood and pieces of boats, and metal struts, and it looked beautiful. Then as it got blurrier, I looked up and saw the moon through the water and if I'd had the time I would have cried at the glorious sight of that big white eye. But my lungs were burning in my chest, and I had no time, so I kicked and flailed, and rose to the surface.

Turns out I'm not very buoyant, but my desperation was enough to see me through. Still, if I had been wearing clothes, then it might have been a near thing.

I aimed for the moon, but fell far short. Still, it felt like I was swimming forever, before my head broke the surface. I coughed out a lungful of water, and drew a ragged breath. It tasted good.

Okay. Now what?

A faint gnawing in the pit of my stomach asserted itself. I was burning energy, burning blood. I must not have gotten much from that ganger's corpse before Pet pushed me away. Couldn't afford to waste any of it dithering.

I looked around, and found myself a few hundred yards from piers, crumbling concrete fingers poking out into the night. Beyond them, nearest shore, a few scattered lights. Above them a skyline, blazing in electric glow. I didn't recognize it. No time to speculate, so I headed toward land.

The good thing about being the way I am, is that repetitive motions don't tire my muscles much. It wears down my store of blood, sure, but even a few drinks will last me for a good long while. Still, I'd been burned, lost a finger, knocked about through a water pipe, and generally forked out of my element. By the time I got to shore the hunger was starting to rise up again.

But it didn't matter. As my bare feet felt their way across the sharp rocks, I sobbed with relief. I barely noticed the cuts the rocks doled out on my feet, that healed seconds later, or the occasional bit of litter that crunched under me as I staggered up the retaining wall. I was free.

For the first time in so long, I was free. Master was dead, my sad savage sisters were burning or buried under rubble, and no one knew I had survived.

I sat on a rock, cold against my bare bottom, and stared up at the moon. As I watched, it grew hazy and vague… The pollution of the city had only allowed it a brief glimpse down, I figured. And it had used its precious time to show me the way out of the water. That was more than coincidence. Thinking it over, I figured it was also a message... The way ahead's only lit so long, if you don't move your ass then you miss your chance, and life continues to suck.

I decided to move my ass. The rest of me went with it, and I headed into the city's night to explore.


	3. Rumination and Rodentia

**I do not own Shadowrun or aim to make any money from them as a result of this story. The setting is used without the permission of the appropriate corps, and is simply an exercise in amusement. Please don't sue me.**

CHAPTER 3: RUMINATION AND RODENTIA

Three blocks into the dockside slums, I was regretting my decision to rush ahead. This place… In my pampered past I would've run like hell if I'd found myself here, shrieked and called daddy to come get me. Now daddy wasn't here, and I was a damn sight more underdressed than I liked. The crumbling brick and plasticrete buildings to either side were full of rats and worse, I could hear them moving, hunting, feeding on each other. Some had people in them, talking in hushed tones, hiding from the rats and each other, or enjoying various pharmaceutically-enhanced dreams. The walls of the surrounding buildings were covered in countless layers of graffiti, and the doors and windows were blocked up or boarded over.

The only figures on the broken and stained street were a few dead, stripped bodies, and a few vagrants hidden back in the deepest alleys. I stayed clear of them. I can only drink blood that's taken from living veins, or veins that stopped living within the last couple of minutes. Stuff that's been in a corpse as old as those bodies looked wouldn't be useful to me, and I didn't feel like braving those alleyways.

I sat down on a stoop and hunched over. Time to take stock.

Okay. First off, I was a vampire. There, I'd said it. Well, thought it, anyway. Not your traditional Lestat, Dracula, or Cullen type, no... When vampires first started turning up, people thought it was because of the magic. Back in 2012, magic came back into the world from wherever it had gone. People started being born as or changed into orks, elves, and other things. People learned to shape and use magic once more, and the dragons woke up from a long hibernation.

And it turns out that some people changed into nocturnal, blood-craving predators. Like Master, who'd then granted the "gift" on to me. There were pros and cons to this, that applied to this situation.

Pros: I could see in the dark like it was full light. If I bit someone, then my teeth would make them go stupid and act like they'd been drugged. I was stronger than someone of my size and build, for what that was worth. I wouldn't get tired until I was low on blood. I could heal up most injuries within seconds, as long as I had some blood in me.

Cons: I was hungry as hell. I was naked in what looked like a really bad part of whatever city I was in, I didn't know where I was, and if I got much lower on blood the Hunger would take over and I'd do something stupid.

I frowned. There was more to consider. All the vampire books I'd read, all the trid-shows I'd watched, they had us down for a lot more weaknesses than what I'd experienced. I'd have to take those into account, sort through the myths and experiment, otherwise I'd have serious problems sooner, not later.

Let's see. The running water thing had a grain of truth in it. As I'd found out, we COULD drown, and if other vampires were like me, we couldn't swim so well. So that one was partially true.

Fire? I checked where I'd been burned a few minutes ago. No, it had healed just fine, so any fire vulnerability was probably false. Of course, when you're on fire it heats up the air around you, suffocates you, burns your lungs… So that could cause problems. Okay, that was a hazard, but not for the reasons you'd think.

Sunlight? I looked up at the sky. Looked pretty dark, and it was covered in a haze of pollution. I didn't know what time it was, but I figured I had a few hours. Still, this one was worrisome. Most of the myths said sunlight was deadly for vampires, and I'd never had any experience with it. I'd spent all of my time since being turned down in a frakking basement, chained to Master's throne. I'd better find shelter soon.

Garlic? Religious symbols? Didn't know, didn't have any experience with them since I'd been turned. Most of the modern trids said no, no problem there. I'd test it later.

Wooden Stakes? When Master would beat me, his cane left smoking bruises that took a long time to heal. His wounds had smoked like that when the burned man stabbed him with a wooden knife. I'd always thought Master's cane was magical, but maybe it was just the fact that it was wood. Come to think of it, Master had always worn gloves when he was holding the cane.

I headed up the stoop a little ways, and looked at the boarded up door, before I ran a finger down one of the ancient, rotting boards. OW! I jerked my finger away, and examined the slight burn running down its length. It didn't heal.

After a few minutes, the burn started to shrink. It was slow, though, very slow compared to my usual mending.

"Well. Guess I'll always be able to tell when I've got a splinter," I whispered to myself and smiled. It didn't make it hurt any less.

In the distance, I heard the sound of motors approaching. A good number of them, fairly small, and the squealing of tires was coming with them. I didn't figure this could be good, so I jumped off the stoop, and scrambled toward a rusting dumpster. Jumping in, I pulled the lid almost-completely down, and peered out, my head supporting the heavy sheet metal as I looked out onto the street.

There were about eight of them, wearing black jackets with red skulls painted on the back, each riding a motorcycle that had seen better days. The one in the lead was an ork, and there was another back with the rest of the pack. The rest were human. They were young, male, and packing heat… Gangers, in their natural habitat. I hunched down, as they stopped at the stoop I'd vacated, and moved out on foot through the alleys and buildings, leaving their bikes lined up on the side of the street.

I watched as the ones in my field of vision pulled out blocky cans. Spray paint? Yes. I heard the hissing, as they coated patterns on the surrounding walls. But why were they being so quiet?

I was eyeing the unattended bikes and gaugeing my chances at getting to one before I was noticed, when something rustled behind me. Something IN the dumpster.

Slowly, I knelt. Slowly I let the weight of the lid ease off my head, and slowly I turned, keeping my hands in front of me…

To see a set of small, thumbnail-sized glowing red eyes considering me from a few feet away. Then another set appeared, and another, and another.

My eyes shifted, darting between the creatures, and I saw matted fur, and wrinkled tails, and foot-long bodies. Rats. Big ones. Hungry ones. And I was right in the middle of their nest.

Wait. Some vampires in the stories could control nocturnal creatures. Worth a shot. I pitched my voice low but deep, and glared the largest one in the eye.

"I am your master. Obey-"

The rats swarmed me.


	4. Farewell to Innocence

**I do not own Shadowrun or aim to make any money from them as a result of this story. The setting is used without the permission of the appropriate corps, and is simply an exercise in amusement. Please don't sue me.**

**CHAPTER 4: FAREWELL TO INNOCENCE**

There are many things in life, that you never want to try. Please take my word when I say that fighting large, hungry rats in the confined space of a trash-filled dumpster is one of them. Their teeth were everywhere, punching through my flesh like tiny chisels, and I did my best to turn into a shrieking, angry ball of hate and death to rodents. I bit back, tried to crush them between my hands, and generally did my best to kill them. I honestly don't know who was winning, because after a few rounds of this the dumpster lid clanged open, the rats backed off, and a muscled, leather-clad arm scooped me up and dumped me on the concrete.

The guy standing over me was one of the human gangers. One of his eyes was a cybernetic lens, glowing red with LED's. He was muscled, mohawked, and a tattoo on his forehead read "VYLENT". He couldn't be more than 20.

And he was grinning, just like Master used to grin. I hated him on sight.

Without taking his eyes from me, he called "Hey, Diaz, found us a free slitch."

I spat out a rat's paw, and glared at him. He grinned wider. "Damn, girl. Okay, forget that mouth, but I figure other bits, they work just fine."

The lead ork poked his head down the alley, scowled at me, and shrugged. "You got drek taste in slitches, but hey, it's your bits. Get a few more tags, then do what you want." He headed back the way he came, spraying as he went.

I started to stand, and Vylent boy grabbed my arm and hauled me up. His grip was way too tight. The thought crossed my mind that I could just let him do what he wanted… There was nothing he could do to me that Master hadn't done, over and over again, and I'd survived through that. Just let Vylent boy have his fun and move on.

I found that I didn't like that thought. No, I didn't like it at all!

Frak. That. Noise. _No one gets to hurt me, ever again!_

I waited until he had a hand busy undoing his fly, then jammed a thumb into his non-cybered eye. He squealed and tried to push me away, and I slipped his grip and jumped onto his chest, wrapping my legs around his lower back. He stumbled backward, hit the alley wall and managed to throw me off sending me bouncing off the opposite wall. I hit it hard, ignored the bruises and went right back at him. He was clutching his eye, and I pushed him down, straddled him, got my hands on his arms, and bit him right on the cheek.

FOOD! Said something back in my brain, and I felt my canines slide free of their sheaths, growing as they pierced his skin. I felt one of the elongated fangs painfully scrape his teeth from the inside as they pierced straight through his cheek, and I switched my grip to his head, as I shifted it and dug in. I felt his arms try to get a hold on my chest, slipping against dumpster residue, blood, and rat-droppings.

And then he stopped fighting, as I started to drink. His good eye was swollen shut and bleeding, but I could tell by the way he went limp, that he was enjoying whatever the hell it was that the vampire feeding method does to their prey.

The Hunger tried to take over, but I shoved it back with a supreme effort of will, telling it that I was doing just fine and it was getting fed so shut up. It helped that my stomach wasn't quite empty going into this.

The cheek's not a great spot for getting to blood. When you don't care about who you're drinking, the arteries are much better. I shifted to his neck, and he barely noticed, aside from a moan.

I rarely got to drink living prey, back when I was chained to the throne. Pet and the others usually got to them first, drank them until they were dead, then left me to suck the last bit of blood out from the newly-made corpse. Now, draining Vylent boy, I saw why they had treated me like that. It was… Powerful, is the best way to describe it. You can feel your victim's heartbeat like the bass of a tricked-out speaker system, only it's your heartbeat too…

His blood was pretty foul. I could tell he didn't eat right, and I could taste something back in it that was probably some kind of drug. But that foul blood was the sweetest stuff in the world to me, right then. It was my wine, it was my crack, it was sheer distilled bliss, and I barely noticed that his heartbeat was fading.

When I did notice, I pulled my mouth off of him with a pop. He'd passed out at some point, arms limply around me. Hm.

I heard the sound of boots treading on garbage behind me, and I pushed my face against his cheek, covering the wounds I'd given him with my head. The ork's voice rumbled again. "Oy, Vato. Pull it out an' let's move."

I slid my cheek around, shifted an eye back toward him. He looked nervous, kept glancing over his shoulder. I noticed he had his hand on the grip of a big, chrome pistol that was jammed into his pants.

Awkward. See, I'd taken too much from Vylent boy, I had a feeling he was going to die. That didn't upset me much. I'd ceased to care about him as anything but dinner when he decided to rape me. The problem was, I didn't know if he'd turn. I was a little fuzzy about how exactly humans got turned into vampires. I was in ecstasy or unconscious or both when Master turned me, and I'd never seen him do it to anyone else. Pet had been chained to the throne when I got there, and Darling and Dearest had been hauled in unconscious, and woken to their new state after they'd been chained.

So. Had I started Vylent boy turning into a vampire? Didn't know. Wanted to make sure, but I couldn't do that with the ork standing over me. That'd get him shooting at me, and I didn't know how my healing ability would handle bullets.

Frak it. This guy was willing to let his buddy rape me. He deserved some pain.

So just as he moved closer and drew back a foot to nudge Vylent-boy, I stood up, grabbed the gun jammed into his pants, and pulled the trigger. It roared, there was the whining sound of a ricochet as the bullet bounced off of the ground, and he screamed and collapsed. I'd fired the pistol directly into his crotch.

As he fell, I pulled the smoking gun out of his pants, held it in an awkward two-handed grip, and put two rounds into Vylent-boy's chest. He gurgled and spat up blood. The recoil on the heavy gun drove me back a few steps, and made my wrists ache for a few seconds.

Vylent boy died, while the ork lay on the ground grabbing at his crotch with a pool of blood spreading out around him. The rest of the gangers scattered around the street shouted and made noise as they stampeded toward the sound of the gunshots. I grinned, showing bloody teeth. Let'em come. I had a belly full of blood, and a big gun.

Then someone above me shouted "NOW!", and the rooftops lit up with muzzle-flashes, as a hail of gunfire rained down upon the streets…


	5. Ascension

**I do not own Shadowrun or aim to make any money as a result of this story. The setting is used without the permission of the appropriate corps, and is simply an exercise in amusement. Please don't sue me.**

**CHAPTER 5: ASCENSION**

In less than a second, my newly found bravado dissipated, and I scrambled for cover. I could hear the gangers yelling and screaming on the streets, in between shots, but by then I had dug myself in further down the alley, among some ancient cardboard boxes.

Took a few seconds to realize that they weren't shooting at ME. I was fine with that. It was looking like it was time to get out of here, and I didn't mind the confusion.

Still…

I poked my head up, and glanced down the alley. The Ork who had donated his gun to my cause wasn't moving anymore, and there was more blood around him. Vylent-boy was still where I'd left him.

Being naked isn't good, when you're dealing with other people, and the past few minutes had been a living demonstration of that. I hunkered low and ran down the alley, skidded to a stop at Vylent's corpse, and started hauling him back. Took a lot of work to take my mind off the bullets raining down onto the street from the rooftops, but I focused on dragging the dead ganger, and told myself it was okay, they weren't shooting at me. Yet. Once I'd gotten back around three or four bends, I stopped and started peeling Vylent's clothes off. The shirt was holed and bloody where I'd plugged him, and the pants stank of excrement… Dying's not pretty. Still, beggar's couldn't be choosers. I shook the pants out as best I could and folded them up. A good wash and they'd be fine later. The shirt got torn in half to remove the bloodstained part, and put on. Exposed my midriff, but that was fine. His boots were way too big, but they'd do for now. The jacket went over my shoulders, and it came down to about my knees. I'd never been tall, and Vylent had been beefy.

I zipped it up, and glanced upward at sudden motion, scooping up the ork's gun and pointing it skyward. A middle-aged ork woman peering out a second story window held her hands up and stepped back, vanishing inside. I rolled my eyes, and glanced down. Yeah, Vylent would get picked over the second I left. Scavengers to a lion's kill.

"Rawr." I said, and chuckled. Felt strange to laugh. Felt stranger to laugh without getting hit or bit or hurt for it, felt good. So I threw my head back and just let go.

About ten seconds after I started, I realized that the gunfire had stopped, and I snapped my mouth shut. Too late, I could hear people starting to move through the alleys, calling to each other. Some language I didn't know, could be Spanish. Frak.

Well. I had clothes, and a really big gun. I could see in the dark, and I could hear each of their clumsy footfalls, and I could almost smell their unwashed bodies as they approached. I had nothing to fear, nothing at all. I could just set my back and let them come. I was done running! I was the predator here!

"Hey." A voice whispered from about two feet behind me. I shrieked, jumped in the air, tried to whip the gun around, got tangled up in the overlarge jacket, and fell on my ass, painfully.

Way to go, predator.

I was looking up at the remnants of an old fire escape. Standing on it, with one hand on a barely-visible cord that went up to the roof, was a tall, thin man wearing a one-piece, form-fitting black suit. It seemed to hide him… Even my eyes had trouble picking him out of the shadows he was in. His eyes were covered with a set of three-lensed goggles that seemed to glow like cat's eyes… They had covers that were flipped open. His mouth and lower face were visible, but smeared with paint. Black and… Red and blue? Over the suit, he wore an old leather vest with a ton of little pockets, and he had more holsters and pouches on his belt.

"I saw what you did, kid. Not bad. Takes guts to fight when you're naked. And to throat someone with your bare teeth."

"Abhabu. Gha. Uh… Thanks." I babbled, got my tongue semi-straight. This was unexpected.

"The Jaguars, though, they didn't see. They just killed the hell out of those Muerte Rojo boys. You're wearing a Muerte Rojo jacket. They find you back here, they'll ventilate you or worse. Be a stupid way to die, after doing so good earlier."

I blinked. "How-how many of them are there?"

He chuckled, and hopped to the ground. There was a tiny 'zzzz!' noise, and the cord he was holding spooled down with him. I saw that the end of it was at some sort of small wheel attached to his belt.

"How many of them? Enough. And more will come. You're brave, I like that. But you gotta choose your fights. Come on, come with me."

I scowled, and stood up, trying to look him in the eye. The three-lenses arrangement made that difficult.

"Why help me?"

He shrugged. "Don't like seeing bad things happen to pretty girls. Couldn't help earlier without spoiling the ambush, so I figure I'll make back some karma now."

I looked away for a second. The footsteps were getting closer, and faster. My earlier "I'm a predator, rawr!" adrenaline was gone. I glanced over at the thin man. Frak. If it came to it, I had better odds of killing one tough guy, than ten or so semi-tough gangers.

"If you're lying I think I'm going to have to kill you." I told him.

He shrugged. "Fair enough," and held out a hand. I let him pull me to my feet, then he stepped close and grabbed ahold of my waist. I went stiff, and he chuckled. "Hold on."

His free hand slapped his belt, and with a bbbzzzZZZZZ, the wheel on there motored its way up the cord, carrying him, and me along with it.

As we got to the lip of the building's roof, he pushed off with a leg and flipped over. There was a brief sense of vertigo, then he was setting me on the roof, arms on my shoulders, steadying my wobbliness. I raised eyebrows and looked up at him. "I need to get one of those."

He chuckled. "Back in a second," and leaped off the roof. I looked down to watch him walking down the side of the building, crouching, with the line feeding out behind him. Damned if he didn't look like some kind of human spider.

My mind flashed back to the last time I'd read Dracula, and Harker's description of the Count's descent of the cliff. I shuddered. Then I saw the first gangers enter the little cul-de-sac I'd been holed up in, and pulled my head back. A glance around the roof showed that I was secure… It was empty up here, and the entrance to the building was boarded over.

Voices drifted up from below, speaking Spanish or whatever. I heard thin man talk back, then squishing noises. Cautiously, I poked my head over the side again, in time to see thin man wipe off a long knife, and sheathe it, while straightening up from Vylent's corpse. He had something in his hand that glinted red in the ganger's flashlights… Ah, Vylent's cyber-eye. Makes sense something like that would be worth some money. I frowned. Was this his motive in saving me? Getting me out of the way so he could steal the eye?

I watched him talk to the gangers, and one of them handed over a cylinder kind of like the one that had cut Master from gut to sternum. I tensed up, but this one didn't take thin man's head off. They talked for a bit more, then did a weird handshake, and I figured that they were about done. I reeled my head back in, and studied the little anchor holding the cord in place. It'd be easy enough to undo it, I figured. Slip it off the roof, flee across the rooftops, get clear entirely…

I thought about it. No, too risky. Didn't know the terrain, didn't have a destination in mind. Besides, thin man might be able to give me some answers.

I sat back, and I realized this was the first time to rest, to breathe that I'd had since my life had changed utterly. And that had only been maybe twenty minutes ago.

It all came down on me with a rush, and I had to sit down and grab my head in my hands. Holy drek! I was free!

I burst into tears.


	6. Introspection

**Oh hey, a review! Thanks for the kind words... I don't have hundreds of chapters, but I'll put up what I've got. And maybe this'll stir my muse to give me more...**

**Anyway, I do not own Shadowrun or aim to make any money from them as a result of this story. The setting is used without the permission of the appropriate corps, and is simply an exercise in amusement. Please don't sue me.**

CHAPTER 6: INTROSPECTION

I know. I know it has to be hard to understand. It took me a few minutes to put it together myself, but basically it was fear. See, for a very long time my situation hadn't changed. Mind you, it had been a living hell, but still it was basically the same situation day after day. Whenever I woke up, I knew that I'd see the same room, be next to the same feral vampires, and have to put up with the same abuse from Master. Occasionally there'd be someone tossed to us as food, but for the most part life during that time didn't change.

It had been the life of a pet, but it had been a life that had gotten… I don't know. Can't call it comfy. Safe. Yeah, that was it. It had been safe, I knew what to expect. Now, in the space of about half an hour, I'd been almost blown up, drowned, raped, and shot. I'd killed Vylent and maimed the big ork with no remorse or hesitation. The old familiar room was gone, and this strange, hostile city was all around me now, and I had no clue what to do about it. I was afraid. I missed that comfy room, I missed my blood sisters, and I even missed Master and his stupid frakking throne. I had lived the life of a pet, a degraded pet at that, but it had been a guaranteed life.

Now all guarantees were off. And I was afraid, and I hated myself for being afraid, and I was disgusted with myself because I was looking back on my hellish former life with longing, and… Yeah, I was a mess.

I had been the one "bride", the only one out of my sad sisters who managed to hold onto sanity through all of it, and not a single minute had passed by without me wanting to be free, be gone from that place. It was what had held me up, carried me through, given my limbs momentum to swim up out of that horrible darkness, and otherwise helped me through the bad times. When Master was at his worst, I'd go into my head and whisper things that I'd do when I got free. And now that I was free of that, all of that motivation was gone. My drive was cut, and I had no clue what to do next.

I sighed a long sigh, and started mopping my face. A bit of tattered trash nearby let me wipe the blood free… Vampires cry bloody tears, it's true. It was a waste of blood but hell, I had needed that. I couldn't tell how bad off I was, but I mopped and wiped until I couldn't feel wetness under my hands anymore.

After a few more seconds of glorious self-pity, my common sense started asserting itself. My brain wouldn't shut up and let me grieve. I knew that I wasn't safe yet, that there was a whole lot that could go wrong with my night in the next few hours… If I didn't pay attention, if I wasn't at the top of my game, then I'd probably die, or worse get trapped by another someone like Master. Survival was my goal now. The old familiar room was gone, so I'd find a new one now. One where I was Master.

Only without the throne. And the sex slaves. And the pompous attitude. And… Hell, looking back on it, I saw how pathetic it really was. How had I ever thought that vampires were tragic, romantic and awesome?

No matter. Survive first, build a future later.

"Hey."

I squeezed my eyes shut, turned my head and opened them again. Yep, thin man was back.

"You ready to go?" He was looking away from my face. He'd probably seen me crying, and given me a little space. I found myself appreciating that. I found myself praying he hadn't noticed I was crying blood.

"Yeah. Where we going?"

He smiled, and pulled the cord's anchor from the lip of the roof, before walking across and setting it on another side of the building. "Get to my wheels, first, get out of Jaguar turf. Now that the job's done, don't wanna leave my car in front of their eyes any more than I have too. Temptation, and those boys ain't saints. After we get there, you tell me where you want to go and I drop you there. Sound good?"

"Lead on… Uh. Sorry, what's your name?" 

"Call me RPM. You?"

I thought for a few minutes. I didn't want to use my real name. I stood up and glanced over the streets below, seeking something that sounded right. And just as I looked down, some old bum burning trash in a barrel three blocks over waved a blanket over the flames, shooting sparks into the night sky. I liked the imagery of it. Liked the little burning embers, swirling along on the wind.

"Spark. Call me Spark."

"Alright, Spark. Hold tight, car's only a couple minutes away when we hit the ground." He held out his arms again, and I hugged him.

The descent was fast and uneventful, and we made it to his car without incident.


	7. Moonlight Ride

CHAPTER 7: MOONLIGHT RIDE

The car was hidden behind a couple of overturned, rusty cargo shipping containers, at the end of a short pier. It was a grungy, mid-size deal with two doors. It was dented, had a patched window, and hadn't been washed in a few years. Even so, it looked fast, sleek, but not expensive… More like a style that I was unfamiliar with. That made me frown. How long had I been stuck chained to the throne? It had felt like forever, but there had been no way to tell. The moon was looking down on the water again, and I took that as a good omen, just watching it for a couple of minutes. I blinked out of my reverie in time to catch a duffel bag. "Here, make yourself useful," said RPM. He pulled off his goggles and suit hood, and placed them carefully in the bag. I snuck a peek at the revealed face. His eyes were pitted metal, old cybereyes that had probably seen a hell of a lot since they'd been put in. He had braided, graying black hair, and with the goggles up I could see the rest of his face paint. Now that it was fully revealed, it had a lined pattern to it… "You're an Indian!" I said, then shut my mouth, looking away and shutting my eyes. Embarassing!

He chuckled. "Last I checked. Though when I was growin' up, most of you palefaces preferred the term Native Americans." I opened an eye cautiously, in time to see him strip off the vest and rest of the suit. He was wearing tighty-whities, I noted, before I looked back away. I felt him deposit the clothes in the bag, then heard rustling as he turned back to the car, and a few zippers.

"I appreciate the courtesy little lady, but I doubt I had anything you didn't see before." I shrugged, and turned back. "It's the principle of the thing," I replied. Well, that and I didn't want to weird him out. It had been a long time since I'd had experience with clothes, I'd forgotten a lot of social niceties. Like where to put your eyes.

He'd changed into slacks and a wifebeater, with a leather vest pulled over the ensemble. Simple, and it showed off his wiry muscles. I noted that one arm had a tattoo of some sort of big cat on it. He took the bag back, and I let him. "So, where to?" He asked. One arm indicated the open passenger-side door.

I shrugged, then thought about it. What was the best for my immediate survival? Well, getting un-naked would probably help. I looked at the pair of pants I'd tucked under my arm, stained with Vylent's bodily fluids. "Um. A Laundromat, please. And do you have, uh, a few bucks I can borrow?"

I saw his eyebrows raise. "Laundromat? Bucks? Man, there's some words I ain't heard in a while."

He misinterpreted my grimace. "Relax. You just want someplace to wash clothes?"

"Yeah." I presented the smelly pants. He took one look, one whiff, and frowned. "Nope. Those don't go in my car. Hold on."

He popped the trunk and rummaged around, eventually pulling out something which looked like jeans. "You'll have to roll'em up, and belt'em good, but these should work." I dropped Vylent's britches, and hastily changed into his spares. Vylent's belt was still good, even though I had to tuck it into the very last notch. I looked up in time to see him studying me, shaking his head. "Um…" I said.

"Nothing much. Just wondering why you were modest enough to look away when I was changing, but had no problem changing in front of me."

I looked down. Damnit! I wasn't used to PEOPLE. I wasn't used to CLOTHES! And I knew these were the smallest of issues, the smallest of my troubles. I would have to relearn a thousand little social cues and customs, if I didn't want to draw attention to myself.

He put a hand on my shoulder. "Hey, don't worry about it. I don't know a thing about you, but I reckon you been through something nasty. So don't fret about what I think, and I'm sorry if I upset you. So now you got clean britches, where do you want to go?"

I put my hand on his for a moment, and squeezed it in thanks. Finally looking up at the sky, I considered. Still didn't know when dawn would break. "I need someplace to sleep."

"Just so you know, I ain't taking you home. I don't know you, you don't know me. And you're a bit young for an old cat like me, anyhow."

I appreciated that.

"Yeah, okay. I just need someplace to crash for a day or so. But I don't have any cash."

He considered me for a second, with those metal eyes. "You get robbed or something?"

"Or something, yeah."

"Took your comm., too?"

"Comm?"

"Yeah, your link."

"Uh. I don't think I had one."

He blinked, then settled his face into a neutral expression.

"Tell you what. Lemme give you a shirt, then you let me see that jacket for a minute. I think I recognize the cut of your coat."

I looked him over for a second, then nodded and took the pro-offered t-shirt. This time I turned my back, as I changed. When I turned back, he had one of the little zippered mini-pockets on the jacket open, revealing a tiny, glowing screen.

"Thought so. This here's an Urban Chic jacket. Most of their models got a built-in plasti-fab comm. screen. Link's down here." He flipped the jacket around, to show a small plastic disk, kind of like a compact with LEDs in a holster, near the jacket's armpit. He touched a few things on it, and it opened up to reveal a set of pushbutton keys.

"Hm. Crappy little thing. All the bells and whistles, and no real horsepower. Or security, I'll bet." His lips twisted. "Between this and his eye, I'm inclined to think that your former buddy was a rich-kid, slumming. Playing at being a big bad ganger." He frowned. "This changes a few things. Oh, not with you kid, don't worry. You still get your ride. Anyway, the geek you slotted doesn't need this anymore, and you could probably use it. I ain't a hacker, but I've got some software that'll wipe this puppy, let you use it."

I blinked. "That'd… Be nice."

He closed the car's trunk and sat on it, as he pulled out a less-fancy looking disk of his own, and started hitting a few buttons on it, one-handed, muttering words in a language I didn't know. At various words, the disk in his hand would beep, and Vylent's would beep or hum in response, and he'd stab a finger into the air. I didn't know what to make of it.

While he worked, I studied him. With the suit off, I could see him a little more clearly.

As I found out after my change, and as it turns out, vampire vision is pretty useful stuff. Put simply, we can see heat. Since most things have at least a little temperature difference, this lets us see in the dark without too much trouble. It's not 100% effective, and I'm sure there are ways to circumvent it, but it gives us a huge edge over regular people.

And I'm willing to bet that RPM's cybereyes were easily the equal of my own vision, or better.

I studied him, watched the heat of his form, the colors that it made and the shades that it brought out where his skin was exposed. His clothes evened it out, so they looked like a continuous block of muted orange, but his flesh was a glorious burst of red where I could see it. If I focused I could see the veins in his neck and face… Made me glad I'd eaten Vylent, earlier. I couldn't see the area around his eyes too well… That part faded almost to pure black when I looked them over.

Eyes. Hm. "Hey, RPM?"

"Give me a minute. Almost done."

"Yeah, that's fine. Um. That one I killed… Did you take his eye because it's better than your own are?"

He was still for a moment, concentrating on clicking the keys. I saw his temperature change a little. You know how all those tridflicks always have the vampire/superhero/mage/whatever able to read if someone's lying or otherwise predicting their thoughts by watching their heartbeat and bodyheat? Yeah, that's not really how it works. People are always changing… I suppose if you knew someone REALLY well, you could tell their lies by their heat cues. But if you knew them that well, you wouldn't have to see their heat to tell if they were lying.

Finally, he looked up. His face was blank, as he studied me. "No. Mine are military grade. Obsolete military grade, but still better than that punk could've had. But his eye will be worth some nuyen, when I sell it to a chop-shop vendor."

Nuyen. Okay, that sounded familiar. I pushed it aside, and smiled. "That why you offered to help me?"

He shrugged. "It let me get my hands on that eye without you shooting at me, or me shooting at you. And don't get me wrong, I'll uphold my end of the bargain. Not to mention that I'm helping you in a few ways that don't cost me anything."

"How much will you get for it?"

"Couple hundred, if I'm lucky. About what I made for this job." He studied me for a while, then said a word, and both commlinks beeped. He offered Vylent's back to me. "You all right with that, or do we have to renegotiate?"

I took the comm., and smiled. "We're good." I watched him relax a bit. "Alright. You're clear for now. Wouldn't use that commlink for anything important, but it'll be good enough to get you into a coffin motel."

I jumped. Coffin? How had he-? No, wait.

"Coffin motel?"

"Yeah. Bout all you can afford. I tossed you 20 from the Jaguars' credstick, that should be good for up to a week." He showed me the cylinder that the gangers had given him, then pocketed it, and his own 'commlink'. "Fair warning, if you don't tack a SIN onto that comm. in about four-five days, it won't work so good anymore. Mitsuhama's been cracking down on illegal comms lately, and that's what yours is now."

I nodded. "Thanks. So you know, uh, a good coffin hotel?"

"Ain't no good coffin hotels, but I can get you to a couple that aren't in Jaguars turf. Probably best to get on out of here, anyway. That took longer than I planned."

I was hearing motorcycles in the distance again. And shots, ragged and disordered, this time. "What's wrong?" 

He grimaced, and held the door for me as I got in, before heading around to the driver's side. My feet crunched on old fast-food containers, and after thinking about it for a second, I belted up.

"That job was too easy, was what's wrong. Jaguars hired me to help them put the hurt on the Muerte Rojos. But those boys we killed tonight? They went down easy. They were green. I'm willing to bet that they were new recruits, sent out here as a feint. Rojos told them to go prove their worth by tagging, then wrote them off. They sent them into an obvious ambush, while the Rojos hit the Jaguars where they're not looking."

There was a muffled CRUMP, and the dock shook for a second. To the west, a pillar of smoke started to rise into the sky. RPM slammed his hand against the dash, and swore. After half a minute of cussing, he started the car, and began maneuvering around the shipping containers, picking his way off the pier. I noticed that even though the car looked grungy and banged up, it ran quiet. The insides were obviously well-kept. There was a lesson there.

"So. Are you going to go help the Jaguars?"

He laughed. Unlike his earlier chuckles, this one was sharp, and over quickly. "No. No reason."

"I thought you were working for them?"

"Was. Job's done. Spent the better part of a week leaking rumors that the Jaguars were going to be hitting the Asphalt Gods tonight, and away from their turf. Set them up in a picture-perfect ambush spot, in the place most likely to be hit when the Rojos came rollin'. And most important?"

He looked at me, a humorless smile on his face. "I got paid. I'm done. Not my fault the Rojos were smart about this one."

He sighed, and looked back to driving. We made it off the pier, and started humming down back-streets, jerking back and forth as he dodged debris, torn-up patches in the streets, and a few other obstacles. Finally, he spoke up again, not taking his eyes from the road. His voice was soft, and I watched his face droop as he talked.

"Besides. There's damn little joy OR pay in helping kids kill kids."

I didn't have a good reply to that.


	8. Any Port in a Storm

**Sorry for the delay… Yesterday got busy. As an apology, have three chapters in a row.**

**I do not own Shadowrun or aim to make any money from them as a result of this story. The setting is used without the permission of the appropriate corps, and is simply an exercise in amusement. Please don't sue me.**

CHAPTER 8: ANY PORT IN A STORM

I watched the streets outside. The buildings started getting less run-down as we went, and I even saw lights in a few places. The sidewalks started to become habited, with a few people showing up here or there… Gangers wearing odd colors, dealers doing their business, homeless lying against crumbling apartment buildings, prostitutes of both genders walking the streets in skimpy outfits. And we started passing parked cars, and merging into more vigorous traffic. Here and there an open doorway lead to old-fashioned neon signs, a thumping bass beat of music I didn't recognize, people concentrating on dancing, drinking, and finding a warm bed for the night.

The place had some pretty steep hills, and some of the skyline was starting to look vaguely familiar. I thought that maybe I'd been here before, or seen it on the trid. Couldn't quite put my finger on it, though. I turned my attention to RPM.

His face was wrinkled, under the paint, and those metal eyes of his were watching the road without blinking. I couldn't begin to guess his age, but if he was under forty then he'd seen a hell of a hard life. That big cat tattoo on his arm had a S.N. below it, and a few symbols that I didn't recognize.

"Stands for Sioux Nation." He said, taking a left turn off the main drag.

"Oh. How did you…?" He tapped the rear-view mirror, and I nodded, looking away.

"Not from there originally. Ended up there, thirty years back. And yeah, that's a real Wildcat tattoo."

I nodded politely, and he blinked. At a red light, he turned and scrutinized me for a minute, saying nothing. I squirmed, and tried to think of things to fill the silence. Finally, a few thoughts bubbled to my mind.

"Why were you helping the Jaguars?"

"Told you that. They paid."

"Do a lot of gangs pay you for your help?"

He chuckled. "No. Probably less after word of this gets around. Not my fault, but my rep'll take a hit on the streets. No, I'm a runner."

I nodded again, and he shot me a frown. "You got no clue what I'm talking about, do you?"

I shook my head. He shook his head back, then took a left, onto a smaller street, past a bevy of strip clubs. "For some random street kid who can take on a guy twice her size while naked and unarmed and throat him without stopping to think about it, you're kinda naïve."

"Sorry."

"S'all right. Just ain't adding up, is all. You're not a headcase, right?"

I wanted to laugh, but remembering the night's events, I couldn't help but look away. Part of me wanted to curl up in the seat and shut up until he kicked me out of the car, but the fact was he was the nicest guy I'd met so far. Yeah, I thought. I could stand to open up a little. "I… Don't think so. I'm a little messed up, yeah, but… Well… I just got out of a bad situation. Really bad. I just need to, just rest, get a minute to breathe-" I broke off and looked over at him. His face had softened a little.

"S'fine. I don't need details. Betting that's where you got your bioware, though."

"Bioware?"

"Yeah. Stuff that lets you see in the dark, take a few hits from a two hundred pound ganger without flinching or bruising, and knock him down like he's nothing."

"Oh. Yeah. That came from… My situation."

The car was slowing, next to a run-down strip of shops. A fuel station stood guard over the cracked asphalt of the parking lot, and several grungy signs proclaimed the Sunrise diner, the Thai Me Up restaurant, the Freedom INC. Bail and Income tax emporium, a convenience store called the Stuffer Shack, and something called the Bunker. The rest of them were empty and shuttered, full of dust and empty shelves.

Unlike most of the other places we'd passed, there were two security guards in plain sight. One was in a booth by the edge of the lot, the other was moving up and down the walkway by the shops. Both had holstered guns, and both were watching our car as it came in.

"Alright. Bunker's cheap, twenty ought to last you a while. Diner's got a buffet special. No great shakes, but it's filling."

He considered a bit, then pulled out his disk of a comm-link again, and pushed a button. Vylent's- no, it was MY comm-link now, chimed.

"That's one of my numbers. I'm not gonna give you money or help you with piddly drek, so don't call unless you got a reason. There's a story in you, kid, and I got a feeling I'll see you again."

He cracked his knuckles. "You don't get a SIN tied to that comm. and paying a provider's bill within a week, the number will erase itself. Also, I'd recommend either losing the jacket or ripping out the skull on that jacket. The Muerte Rojos find you wearing that, they'll stomp you on general principles."

I nodded. "Hey… Thanks again." My hand found the door handle, and I popped it open.

"No worries." He chuckled as I started to scramble out. "Your gun's showing."

I looked down at the big gun I was still holding loosely in one hand, looked at the two security guards watching me disembark, and hastily shoved it into an oversized jacket pocket, zipping it up afterwards. 

"Uh. Thanks."

"See you, paleface."

And as I turned around to consider the sign and grated steel door of the bunker, the door shut behind me, and RPM headed out into the night.

The Bunker's door didn't open when I tugged at it. The walking security guard eyed me and started moving closer, and I tried pushing. Didn't work.

I looked at the guard and did my best to look helpless. He snorted. "Gotta pay to get in, hun."

Pay. Okay, RPM said he'd put money on my commlink… I pulled out the disk and sure enough, an LED was flashing next to a button labeled "Authorize". I hit it, and the door clunked open. The guard went back to walking, and I headed into the Bunker.


	9. Laundry of the Damned

**I do not own Shadowrun or aim to make any money from them as a result of this story. The setting is used without the permission of the appropriate corps, and is simply an exercise in amusement. Please don't sue me.**

CHAPTER 9: LAUNDRY OF THE DAMNED

The place was a large room, with what looked like blast doors in the floor. There was litter and grime around the place, and there were no visible windows. A pair of thoroughly vandalized cameras hung from the back corners of the room, and there was a single door back there that read "NO ENTRY, EMP OY S ONL. The only other thing around was a dust-covered monitor, covered in glasstic sheeting. It had something like an ATM screen, and I approached and squinted at it through the smeared glasstic.

It seemed to be showing a couple of grids, with letters and numbers alternating on them. Where the letters and numbers met, there were green or red circles, with prices next to them. I assumed they were prices… They had the letters NY next to them, and my distant memory told me that meant nuyen. 

The cheapest one I could find was red. I tried poking it, and the screen flashed "OCCUPIED", and reset. Fair enough. Poking a slightly more expensive green one got me a prompt asking "TIME IN HOURS?", and a slider. I set the slider to 48, and the screen demanded that I "AUTHORIZE TRANSACTION: 8 NY".

Poking the authorize button on my commlink got me a notice from the screen "KEY TRANSMITTED. THANK YOU USER NAME HERE"

I heard a strange humming and grinding from behind me, and instantly whirled around, tucking the commlink away and fumbling at the gun in my jacket, before relaxing. The blast doors in the floor were grinding open, revealing stairs leading down.

I took them cautiously, but sped up as the doors suddenly started to close while my torso was still above floor-level. Bending low, I hurried down the stairs, and came out into a water-damaged concrete room, with a single security guard wearing a visor staring into nothing sitting in a cheap chair, and fiddling his hands in midair. Beyond him was a grilled doorway. I looked around, and approached the guard.

"Hi. I rented a room…"

He smirked. "Funny. First time here, huh? Alright sweetheart, what coordinates?"

I blinked. "It was green."

He sat up and took off the visor. For the first time I noticed just how tall he was, and just how stretched his features were. His ears were long and pointed, and his face, bored as it was, had high cheekbones and the most perfect eyes I'd ever seen.

This was an elf, I was pretty sure of it. But I put that fact aside. Elf or no, he was also a rent-a-cop, and he was glaring at me.

"Cute. Don't remember the coordinates? A-4? B-12, that kind of thing?"

I shook my head. His smile changed.

"Well, it'll say on your comm, cutie. Hand it here, and I'll confirm it for you."

I looked at him for a long moment, watched his veins pulse under his skin, his slightly-warmer-than-human body heat grow a bit, as he studied me.

No. He'd gone from annoyed to friendly way too fast. I didn't trust that.

"Thanks, but I'll pass."

I walked toward the grille like I knew what I was doing, turning my back on him.

"Have a nice day… Slitch." That last bit was barely a whisper. I ignored him, and heard him put the visor back on his face, and heard his chair creak as he settled back into it. Much to my relief, the grille opened as I approached, saying "Key Confirmed", in a somewhat-motherly voice.

The inside of the bunker was lit with hanging bulbs, showing crumbling concrete, puddles of dark, oily water, and steel girders. There were cameras here too, but these seemed to function just fine, judging by the way they tracked back and forth, and the red lights at their bases. Cramped tunnels lead off in three directions, with letters and numbers and arrows printed all over them, along with tags proclaiming the greatness of people and things I'd never heard of.

Crap. What WERE those coordinates that I'd picked?

I tried to visualize the grid again… I'd gone with one towards the top middle… Okay, so it was probably over in the S-Z range… I followed the arrows, walking past banks of what looked like big washing machines. Each bank was set into the wall, and had a green or red light glowing from it. Green and red lights… Waitaminute…

I walked down past three aisles, and checked down each one. No doors here, no other people, just banks of washing machines, at least 16 to an aisle on each side.

The highest number on the grid was 16. I hadn't rented a room at all!

Or had I? As I crossed one aisle, I saw a machine with its door open and the light glowing red. An old man was pulling himself out of the machine, hunched over so he could step out onto the floor. As his feet touched the ground the light on the machine switched from red to green.

RPM had called this a coffin motel, now I saw why. I reached the S-aisle, and wandered up and down it, trying machine doors. None opened for me. At one point I passed a doorway labeled TOILETS. The smell emanating from that doorway made me glad I was undead.

As it turned out, V was the aisle I wanted. As I started down it trying doors, the light on number 7 turned from green to blue. I approached, and found that it opened easily. Inside, I could see a cramped space, maybe ten feet long, five feet wide, and four feet tall. The walls were scratched plastic. The floor seemed to be soft and gave under my foot, and there was a monitor on the ceiling. There were a couple of handles on the walls.

Beggars couldn't be choosers, and I'd already paid for the place, so I hunched over and crawled in. I tugged the door shut behind me, and the smooth CLICK of an internal latch catching made me smile. There were at least four locks behind me and the outside world now. Finally, I felt a little more secure. The immediate goal of SURVIVE had been achieved, now I could move on. Now I could focus on other things.

I sat down on the floor, which was surprisingly comfy. Now that I was up close, I could see stains in the vinyl-like floor, and there were a few lingering smells that I wasn't too sure about. Still, compared to my last lodgings, it was paradise.

Looking up, I saw words on the monitor that read "WELCOME USER NAME HERE, with a timer ticking down from 47:51:09, along with a smaller sentence that read LOCAL TIME 4:42 AM.

Below it were a list of options.

-EXTEND TIME (1 NY/6 hours)

-BATH (.05 NY)

-BASIC STATIONS (free)

-LAUNDRY (.10 NY)

-PAY 2 VIEW (.10 NY/hour)

-MATRIX UPLINK (.5 NY/hour)

-ALARM (free)

-HEAT/COOL (free)

-LIGHT/DARK (free)

-MUSIC (free)

I played with the free options for a while. The music had three songs, and none of them were familiar to me. I let them play anyway I put the coffin to as warm as I could get it, and dialed down the lights. Didn't see much point in setting the alarm.

Thinking it over, a bath sounded good. I'd been in water earlier, true, but it hadn't been the least bit clean. And I was wearing a dead man's clothes…

After I picked the bath option, I had to authorize it with my commlink. The monitor's text switched to BATH STARTING IN 45 S. 44 S. 43 S.

Some frantic fumbling revealed that one of the handles opened a small storage compartment in the side of the coffin. I barely stripped off and got my clothes and commlink in there before water started coursing out of the walls, hosing me down and sluicing out of hidden drains with a greedy gurgle. The water was followed by soap, and I scrubbed with the suds as best I could. Finally, another round of water washed the soap away, and fans behind the vents blew hot air over me.

The overall effect was like a warm car wash. To me, it was glorious. Finally, for the first time in I don't know when, I was free of filth.

Almost. I pulled the clothes out of the compartment, sniffed them, and made a face. Okay, these needed work.

Touching the laundry option opened up another compartment, and the screen ordered me to PLEASE REMOVE ALL NON-FABRIC POSSESSIONS FROM YOUR CLOTHES PRIOR TO ACTIVATING.

Right.

The gun and commlink were duly removed, and the clothes added. Machinery in the wall started chugging and grinding, and I lay back and let it work while I studied the screen again.

Basic stations… That was the only free option left.

I had a hunch I knew what that option would do. Still, I couldn't bring myself to touch the screen.

This had been like a cheap hotel so far, down to the stains of uncertain origin on the mattress. The basic stations option would probably get me the equivalent of local channel access… Kid's shows, reruns, and local news. It was that third thing which gave me pause.

See, if I caught a news program, it would tell me the date. That bit of uncertainty that plagued my mind would be gone. I'd know without a doubt just how long I'd been in Master's clutches.

I wasn't sure that I wanted to know.

I was scared.

If it had been only a few months, then it would mean that I was weak, that I'd gone crazy, and my mind had stretched out the tortures and made me feel every bit of them, for as long as possible. I didn't want to be weak.

If it had been longer, if it had been a few years, then I would have a really hard time fitting myself back into the world. It would mean that the people I'd known had moved on, gotten on with their lives, probably wouldn't remember me. It meant that I'd have trouble ahead, and that scared me worse than being weak.

If it had been longer than a few years… I didn't know. I just didn't know, and that scared me the most of all the options.

So yeah, I didn't want to deal with that tonight. Tonight, I'd sleep in a place all to myself, in warmth, wearing clothes for the first time in forever, with soft music playing in my ear. Twenty minutes later the laundry stopped, and I pulled my hard-earned clothes over me, enjoying the warmth and relative cleanness of the fabrics.

Two hours of tossing and turning later, I ended up stripping down, turning off the music, and turning down the heat.

Then I slept.


	10. Solar Showdown

**I do not own Shadowrun or aim to make any money from them as a result of this story. The setting is used without the permission of the appropriate corps, and is simply an exercise in amusement. Please don't sue me.**

CHAPTER 10: SOLAR SHOWDOWN

One blessing of my state, was that I hardly ever seemed to dream. I used to dream all the time before I was turned… My dreams back then were vivid, colorful, and either horrific or full of joy. I missed them a bit, but on the other hand, I never had any nightmares to deal with. Given how lousy life had been, I'd much rather go without dreams altogether.

I woke up, and the monitor screen told me it was 5:31 PM. I'd slept for 11 hours, give or take.

Well. First things first.

Clothes back on and commlink tucked away, I opened up the coffin's hatch, and slid out into the aisle. The place was fairly deserted as I headed back up the main aisle, with the exception of a couple of dwarves wearing unknown gang colors sitting on one of the coffin banks, talking in low voices and glancing at me as I went past. I put a smile on my face and kept my front to them as I went by… Didn't want to let them see the skull on my jacket. RPM's advice sounded pretty good, I'd need to get the Muertos Rojo marks off of this coat if I wanted to keep it. Last thing I wanted was to get jumped for wearing the wrong colors.

The grille opened for me again when I approached it. The security guard was different this time, a heavyset older human woman who barely looked at me as I went by.

Just before I got to the stairs, it struck me. It was 5 oclock in the afternoon. Sun had to be up.

Hm. So much for vampires sleeping through the day.

Alright. Now what? 

Did I dare expose myself to the sun? Just about every vampire legend out there said it would be bad for me. Maybe fatal.

If I didn't, then I'd have to stay here for oh, at least another five hours to make sure it had set. Five more hours off my account. Five less hours to… Well, whatever it was I was going to do, I'd have less time at it.

I felt eyes on the back of my head, and turned to look. The security guard was studying me, with a hand on the butt of her gun. I raised my hands, and smiled. She kept looking at me.

Okay. I'd have to try it sooner or later. Might as well be now, where I had a windowless place to retreat back into.

I took the stairs up, watching the blast doors above me rumble open. The room had a new occupant now, the old human that I'd seen climbing out of his coffin last night. He was curled up in a corner and snoring.

I walked back toward the front door. It didn't have a handle on this side. There was a viewscreen on the wall next to it, and a large green button. The screen showed the front of the strip mall, and a few people moving around the other shops. It seemed to be daytime.

Before I could dwell on that thought any longer, I pushed the button, and the door slid open.

WOW it was bright.

I poked my head outside, and squinted my eyes. I was under the shade of the strip mall's overhanging roof, and I was still having trouble seeing. My forehead started throbbing immediately, feeling for all the world like the precursor to a migraine headache.

Lovely.

Still, I wasn't done yet. I walked outside, and the door shut behind me. It was like going through a sim-flick where the director had filmed everything through a super-white filter.

I walked to the very edge of the shade, and stuck one jacketed arm out into the sunlight. My hand started itching like ants were crawling over it.

_Okay, this isn't too bad,_ I thought.

Then my hand started stinging, like fire ants were crawling over it.

"Gh!" I jerked it back, turned away from the light, and studied it. No burns. No marks, even. And once I was out of the light the pain faded in seconds.

Still, not fun.

Okay. Enough fracking around, I had to know for sure.

I made a fist, closed my eyes, and stuck my hand out as far as it would go.

_Ow. Ow! Ow…_ This was nothing, I told myself. Compared to that one time Master got bored and spent the day skinning me, this was nothing. Compared to those times he beat me over and over again with that wooden cane, this was simple. This was nothing. I could do this.

After a few minutes, the pain faded to a dull roar. I opened my fist, flexed it. It still hurt, but now it was like a dull ache. My arm didn't burst into flame, turn to ash, or do anything else in a suitably undead manner.

YES! Wasn't fun, but that was one BIG question answered. At least one big part of the world wasn't inclined to kill me.

Then I went back inside. My head was killing me.


	11. Hey Old Man Got Something For You

**I do not own Shadowrun or aim to make any money as a result of this story. The setting is used without the permission of the appropriate corps, and is simply an exercise in amusement. Please don't sue me.**

CHAPTER 11: HEY OLD MAN GOT SOMETHING FOR YOU

I'd like to say the sunlight slowed me down. It would be a handy excuse, but no, I can't use it. The truth is I was distracted by wondering about the future, and just flat out careless.

I had just gotten back through the doors into the bunker, when I felt a hand on my shoulder, then the next thing I knew I was being slammed against the wall. My head cracked on the concrete, and I blinked, as purple spots flared in front of my eyes.

When they cleared, I saw that the old man who'd been previously curled in the corner was now holding me to the wall with one hand, and holding a something sharp to my throat with the other. His eyes were bloodshot, and staring, and yellowish, his breath was foul, and this close up I could see some kind of metal slot drilled into his temple, hidden under his thin dirty-grey hair.

He grinned, and his mouth was full of broken teeth. "Give me all your stuff RIGHT NOW. Or I cut your frakkin' throat DO IT!"

He slammed me against the wall again. This time I tightened my neck and cushioned my head a bit. It hurt, but I'd had worse.

"DO IT!"

God damnit. Now I had to take him down without killing him. Don't know what he'd planned to do with my body, but I couldn't drag a corpse out into the sun without drawing attention.

I grabbed his knife-holding wrist with both hands and SQUEEZED. I felt the blade cut into my neck a little, but ignored it. Fragile little bones gave under my grip, and he yelled, as his other arm let go of my shoulder and started beating at my face.

With strength out of proportion to my weight, I turned and slammed HIM into the wall. There was another crack, and his eyes went wide, as he gasped in pain.

_Don't kill him! _Right, right. Stupid common sense.

I let him go and he dropped to the ground, sobbing. I gathered up the knife from where he dropped it. Smaller than I thought, not much more than a box cutter.

"Damn… Bitch… Frakking… Ow… Kill you…"

I glared down at him. He was glaring right back, his face a mask of pain. I'd just crunched a few of his bones, and he hated me more than he was feeling the pain. Okay, this was a problem. I couldn't kill him, and he seemed like he might be trouble later on if I let things be the way they were. He wasn't much of a threat to me, but he might have friends, or something.

Then again, maybe I could get him thrown in jail.

I tucked away the old man's knife and headed downstairs. The security guard hadn't moved, she'd pulled out a commlink and was fiddling with it.

"Hey." I said. "The old guy upstairs just tried to mug me." 

She didn't even look up. "The Bunker is not responsible for the actions of other patrons, your property, or your well-being when you are outside of your rented facility. So long as we do not witness crime occurring, we have no legal recourse for interference, and suggest that you seek alternative means of settling your differences with other patrons." It had the feel of a line she'd memorized by heart.

I wiped blood from my neck, and thought. Okay, she was useless. The guy upstairs wasn't afraid of me. And the security guard might or might not do something if I killed him, so I couldn't kill him.

It occurred to me that the old man probably didn't know that.

I walked back upstairs. He was trying to pull himself up the wall. I kicked his leg and glared down at him as he fell, screaming in pain. He stopped screaming when I pulled the big gun out of the jacket, and pushed it into his face.

"I don't have any reason to let you walk away, asshole."

I'd learned from watching when Master met with his "guests". When you want to scare someone, you don't try to make your voice meaner. If they're sharp, they can notice that. No, you speak normally, like you would about the weather, or your favorite trid show. You speak calmly, and you look in their eyes, and maybe you smile.

He started crying. I kept staring. With one thumb, I drew back the gun's hammer. It made a really loud clicking noise, and he started shaking his head. I smelled urine. It was turning into a pathetic scene…

Some part of me felt bad about this, and I pushed it away. I could cry later.

"You stink, old man. Gonna stink even more if I put one in your brain." I nudged his forehead with the gun, and he froze.

"Too much stink around here already. So you get off this time. But if I see you around here again… BANG!" I yelled that one right in his ear, top volume. He shrieked, and closed his eyes. After a few seconds he opened them again, and stared at me.

"Understand?"

He nodded, as best he could with the muzzle jammed against his head.

"Good." I pulled the gun back and stood, then turned and walked downstairs, tucking it back in the jacket as I went.


	12. Time is Nothing

**I do not own Shadowrun or aim to make any money as a result of this story. The setting is used without the permission of the appropriate corps, and is simply an exercise in amusement. Please don't sue me.**

CHAPTER 12: TIME IS NOTHING WHEN YOU'VE GOT NOTHING TO LOSE

I went back to my tube, and lay down while I thought.

I tried to feel guilty about what I'd done… After all, he had been no real threat to me, and I'd bullied him, and probably hurt him pretty badly. Still, I couldn't muster much disgust. The part of me that had felt bad while I was threatening that old guy was quiet, now. I didn't know how I felt about that.

I was a little surprised to find that I wasn't shaking. After awhile I realized it was due to the fact I didn't have to worry about adrenaline anymore. Either the glands didn't work, or the chemical didn't have any effect on my borrowed blood. I guess it was a small blessing.

I took my mind off of it by taking my newly-acquired knife and scraping the skull off the back of the jacket. I cut it into bits, and stuck it into a storage compartment.

Now what?

I pulled out the commlink and considered it. RPM's number was on there right now, but it would erase itself in less than a week if I… What had he said now? Tied something to it, started paying bills for service?

I liked RPM. And it would be useful to keep his number…

I pulled out the commlink and fiddled with it. After a few minutes of no success, I remembered the screen tucked into the jacket's sleeve pocket that RPM had shown me. It was still there when I opened the pocket, and I spent a good couple of hours fiddling with the damned thing. I was never computer-savvy back when I was a teenager, and now I was even more out of touch. Still, there were enough similarities to the way things used to be, that I could eventually try things without fear of screwing up the little device.

I learned that it was a CMT Clip v2.8 persolink, and that it was running ICHI O/S. It was registered to USERNAME HERE. I've never been a computer person, but that seemed like standard babble to me. I also learned that I had 11.85 Nuyen remaining in my cash cache. It also kept prompting me to SUPPLY SIN CERT NOW. And yeah, there was a file on there with a long string of incomprehensible numbers, letters, and characters, labeled RPM. I thought to write it down, but I didn't have anything to write with. Then it occurred to me that I hadn't seen anything to write ON. Not once in my existence as a newly freed vampire, had I seen a single sheet of paper. Not in the litter in the street, not in the dumpster I hid in, nothing.

That was kind of scary… That, more than anything else, drummed in that I had probably been with Master for years. Likely a lot of years, for things to change so much that paper wasn't common.

Okay. Okay, frack it. I'd been dodging it for too long. I needed to know, or it would drive me crazy. Crazier, anyway. My commlink had been reminding me that it needed a date/time synch via matrix upload ever since I'd fired it up a few hours ago, so I'd give it what it wanted. And then I'd know for certain. I could stop with the emo, stop playing Hamlet, and DO something.

I touched the matrix uplink option on the monitor above me, and confirmed the transfer of the princely sum of half a nuyen. My commlink chirped and started doing a fun little LED dance, shaking and beeping. I let it work, and when I felt enough time had passed, I looked at the tiny screen.

**SYNCHRONIZATION COMPLETE**

** 1804 PST**

**APRIL 6, 2068****.**

Oh.

Oh no.

_Forty-six years._


	13. Memories, All Alone in the Moonlight

**I do not own Shadowrun or aim to make any money as a result of this story. The setting is used without the permission of the appropriate corps, and is simply an exercise in amusement. Please don't sue me.**

CHAPTER 13: MEMORIES, ALL ALONE IN THE MOONLIGHT

I'd been barely 17 at 2022… From what my parents told me, I'd lived through some pretty amazing times. I guess they were right. I'd been a child when the dragons woke up, and elven and dwarven babies started being born to regular people. **I** hadn't been an elf, of course, I wasn't that lucky. I remember when we moved out of Chicago when the towers got blown up by terrorists, and we went to live with friends in Sacramento. I remember when we found out that magic was real, when the world figured it out… Of course, **I** wasn't lucky enough to be born with magical talent, oh well.

I was chubby and boring. Boring old Julie. I tried so hard to be special, but nothing satisfied me. I thought I was going through hell… Looking back now, I realize how stupid I was. My parents were rich and spoiled me, I had plenty of friends in school, and things like the VITAS plague, sudden goblinization, and the earthquakes that killed so many people at random never hurt me, or anyone I really cared about. Not that I cared about many people but myself, back then. Like I said, stupid.

I needed to be SPECIAL. And I refused to believe that I wasn't.

Really, it was not having magic that annoyed me the most. So between forced bulimia to get rid of childish chubbiness and going goth to piss off my parents, I poked my nose into anything that even smelled a little bit like the occult. Tried Wicca for a while, examined satanism and found it overrated, and to my despair, the Eastern mystic paths were snooze-worthy. Boring, pointless, and nothing worked.

God, I was so shallow.

Then my aunt got me an actual honest-to-god book copy of Bram Stoker's Dracula, for my fifteenth birthday. I rolled my eyes and conveniently "lost" it for a while, but eventually I got bored enough to pick it up. From that point on, I was hooked. I devoured the works of Anne Rice, Stephanie Mayer, P.N. Elrod, and all their various imitators. I spent days online, trolling the net for steamy fanfiction, and the few original works that were worth bothering with. I was obsessed, and really, it wasn't much of a stretch to add a few touches to my already gothed-up lifestyle. Hell, it was an obsession that matched my existing wardrobe! When you're a teenager, that drek's worth gold.

Then I got to thinking… Hey, dragons are real. Elves are real, now. Orks and trolls? Right outside the door, if you live in a bad neighborhood. Wizards are real too. So why not vampires?

So I went looking for vampires. I started skipping class, turning myself into a night owl. From there, I moved on to the popular nightspots, the fetish clubs, everywhere that drew crowds at night, and had enough activity going on to hide a feeding vampire or three. The parents screamed but they were lamers, who just DIDN'T UNDERSTAND ME. Got a few boyfriends and one-night stands out of the deal, at least… Got to sample some choice drugs, with good and bad effects. Almost got raped a few times, saw a few people die in bad fights… It was heady, but I had no luck.

Not until Master.

I met him at a Deep Black concert. Deep Black was a super-mysterious goth band, only travelled at night, only played at night. Top-notch special effects… I was half convinced that the lead singer was the real thing, one of the nosferatu. So I was there, trying my best to find a way backstage. I opened the wrong door, and found a stranger necking with a groupie. REALLY necking. Actually FEEDING necking.

I backed out before he saw me, and waited for him to come out of the utility closet that he'd borrowed. Eventually, he did. I watched him all night, stalked him, really… And he knew it. By three AM, he'd sent me over a drink with a note attached. It read Tomorrow ~ Midnight, and had an address on it.

Idiot. I was such an idiot.

I put on my best dress, laced myself into the tightest corset I could, and got a cab to drop me off at the old house at city limits that matched the address.

The last thing I remember as a living human is the stranger who answered the door jabbing me with a needle when he welcomed me in.

When I woke up, I was cold, chained to that damned throne, in an unfamiliar room, and sharing floorspace with a hissing madwoman. And as I found out all too soon, I wasn't human anymore.

The things that Master did to me… The things he made me do, the things I did of my own volition… Looking back at it now, it all seemed like a horrible dream. I wish it had been. Vampires weren't like the books, they weren't beautiful and romantic and tragic, they were just… They were monsters. And now, so was I. I'd gotten my wish.

I was special.

Yay, me.

All it took was almost forty-six years of being chained to a steel chair. Forty-six years of abuse in every way a man can abuse a woman, and many others due to my new resilience. Forty-six years of being slowly driven mad, somehow managing to survive through it by luck or grace of God or sheer stubbornness.

I turned the monitor off, and looked at my reflection in the glass. A seventeen-year-old kid with perma-dyed black hair, frizzy and unkempt. Hollow cheeks, cowlike brown eyes, and skin so pale that chalk would vanish against it. I was sixty-three years old. I'd look seventeen forever.

It sunk in then, and I watched my eyes widen.

I was going to live forever, or until something killed me.

No kids… Some of the stuff Master had done would've got me pregnant, if I was still capable. No aging. No eating, no drinking. Just me, going on while the clocks kept ticking second after second. Just me, forever.

Frack.

Vampires WERE tragic, after all. And it sucked.

Okay.

So what was I going to do now?


	14. Digital Revelations

**I do not own Shadowrun or aim to make any money as a result of this story. The setting is used without the permission of the appropriate corps, and is simply an exercise in amusement. Please don't sue me.**

CHAPTER 14: DIGITAL REVELATIONS

I used most of the rest of my hour of Matrix time to… Well, back when I was seventeen, we called it surfing the net. Damned if I knew what it was called now. I found out that I was in San Francisco, which was a surprise. I thought I'd have at least recognized the bridge, against the night skyline, or that it'd be visible from the coast. Then a few clicks later, I found that the bridge had fallen to one of the earthquakes a few decades back.

Huh. So why hadn't it been rebuilt? The answer came a little later. Back in 2036, it seemed like California had seceded from the US. Not just that, but a lot of other states had followed suit. That was… That was a pretty big fact to take. I mean, I've never been patriotic or anything, but you always just kind of don't expect that. Revolutions and secessions are things that happen to other countries, crappier ones. I mean sure, we let the native Americans have their land back after magic returned, but that was just a bunch of nowhere states and places out in the West and in Canada. To have something as big as California secede? Weird.

I poked around in California's history a little more, getting more and more amazed as time went on… My poor home had been through a lot. At some point California had asked for military aid from Japan, and Japan had conquered most of the state. When the hell did Japan get militant? Furthermore, some rogue colonel was in charge of most of California right now… A little poking turned up a stern, middle-aged Japanese man in an unfamiliar uniform, glaring out of the screen. His name was Colonel Kenji Saito, and this was his city. I stared at his photograph, and shivered. He had the eyes of someone who was convinced that everything they did was absolutely the right thing, no matter what came of it. Folks like that are dangerous.

After a while of it though, I looked up and saw I had barely ten minutes of matrix access left. Okay, time to focus. I had a goal, and that was to keep RPM's number on my comm. Wasn't a huge goal, but that was fine. Start small, build up from there.

So I started poking around. After looking, I found that I'd need two things. The first was a service provider… That would be easy, provided I had a little cash and the second thing. The second thing would be tough… I'd need a SIN. SIN stood for System Identification Number. That was what people had instead of social security numbers, now. It was more complicated too, and… Well, I didn't understand all the details but just knowing the number alone wouldn't work. If I tried to use just the number only, then I'd get caught. Things had to match up.

It'd be tricky to get ahold of one. In fact, the more I looked it over, the more I saw that I couldn't get one, not legally. So I'd have to steal someone's number, or get a fake one made for me.

The only person I knew who could maybe do something like that was RPM. Did I want to call him? He had said not to bug him with piddly stuff.

Still, the more I looked around online, the more I was convinced that I couldn't do much without a SIN. If I wanted to rent a place, the folks renting it would check my SIN. If I wanted to leave California, I'd need a passport, and to get one they'd check my SIN. If I wanted to buy anything expensive, like a car, they'd bill my SIN.

I drummed my fingers on the mat beneath me, and remembered what I knew of RPM. He probably wouldn't mind.

So I used a precious few minutes of my matrix uplink time to call him. He picked up without saying his name. "Yeah?"

"Hey…ah, hello. This is Spark."

"Oh yeah, the moonkid."

"Moonkid?"

"Pale as milk and the moon was out when I met you. You callin' from that place I left you?"

"Yeah."

"Alright. Don't use names. Line's nowhere near secure, but if we keep it boring no one'll care. What do you need?"

I shoved away the burst of paranoia that his revelation gave me. "Oh. Well, I uh… SINs. I think I need a SIN. I have no clue how to get one." Silence on the other end of the line spurred a little panic, and I talked fast, praying he wouldn't cut me off. "I know you said only call for major stuff, but I did some research and I'm pretty sure SINs are major stuff really I don't expect you to whip one up for me I mean you don't owe me that but you probably know where I can get one and I'll do whatever it takes…"

He laughed. "Slow down, paleface. Good, you passed the first test."

"Test?"

"Yeah. Getting priorities straight. This ain't the most pressing priority you got, but it's up there in the top five. SINs are important, unless you like eating garbage and living in dumpsters. As it happens, I can't give you a SIN, or make you up one."

"Oh."

"But I know someone who can."

"Yeah?"

"It'll run you, minimum, two thousand nuyen."

I stared at the monitor. Two THOUSAND nuyen? And that was a MINIMUM?

"I… I don't have that kind of money. I don't know how to get that kind of money." I felt like crying.

"Yeah, I figured. Well, guess you've got a new test, now. Figure out how to get that kind of money, and call me back. Use a more secure line, next time."

"Why are you testing me in the first place?"

"Pass this next one, I'll tell you that."

I scowled at the commlink. He continued.

"Hey. I'm not toying with you, kid. I got reasons for doing this. You don't like it, find a SIN somewhere else."

"Alright. Alright, I'll find the money."

"Good for you. Remember, you got six days or so, then my number's no good. Seeya."

"Bye."

I scowled at the screen. Two thousand nuyen. In six days! Jesus Christ Crispies.

With my last couple of minutes of uplink time, I poked around looking for facts on the area. The city'd grown since I'd been breathing… It had absorbed Oakland, Richmond, and San Rafael. I was currently in a depressed area called the Avenues. As far as I could figure, the place where I'd gotten out of my captivity had been north of here… Somewhere in the Broken gate slum. I poked around a bit on the local news, and found a quick remark on a condemned warehouse being illegally demolished. The time matched, it could be the place. 

Did I want to go back there? I didn't know. If any of Master's gangers had survived, they might recognize me. I didn't want to be recognized. I was free, and I didn't want anyone ever remembering me as the naked, half-feral filthy thing that had been Master's pet.

While I considered, my uplink time ended, and my commlink chirped with a SYSTEM ERROR – NO SERVICE PROVIDER!

I shut it off, and turned over on my side. Okay. Big milestone completed. The horrible truth, not so horrible now. Sure, it was a big new world, but people were still people. Things basically worked the same. More high-tech stuff around, but life went on.

I'd need to find a way to work myself into it. Right now, I had a goal in front of me that would help me both in the short run, and the long run. And that goal was two thousand nuyen in six days.

How the hell was I going to do that?


	15. Rat Race

**I do not own Shadowrun or aim to make any money as a result of this story. The setting is used without the permission of the appropriate corps, and is simply an exercise in amusement. Please don't sue me.**

CHAPTER 15: RAT RACE

I waited until the monitor told me it was 2000 PST, and got out of my "coffin". I couldn't hide away in here forever… I'd run out of money and time all too soon.

There were more red-lit coffins as I walked down the aisle. A few more people were out and about, but no one gave me any grief. The guard at the grill was the elf again, and he studied me a few seconds longer than I was comfortable with… But soon I was past him, and the doors were opening. I tensed up when I left the hatch, but the room was empty, the old man was gone.

The main door to the outside opened with a press of the button, and I stared out into the night. MUCH better. The parking lot was about half-full, and most of the stores were still open and doing business. The bail bond place was closed, but the Sunrise Diner, Stuffer Shack and fuel station looked to be going great guns. I watched a couple of drunk guys head into the Thai Me Up restaurant, and rearranged my expectations of the place as loud, thumping music blared out into the lot when the doors were opened. Cute pun, it was probably something like a BDSM-themed strip club.

I walked out to the sidewalk, and started heading away. I didn't have a goal in mind, but I wanted to see what was around here. The Bunker was probably the best option I had for cheap lodging right now, and it was pretty secure as long as that old mugger didn't get it into his head to have another go at me. But if there were police nearby, or something else worth worrying about just down the block, I needed to find out about it as fast as I could. Sooner or later I'd have to feed again, and it wouldn't be smart to do it with cop cars a minute or two away.

I took a few hours and just walked, and watched people, and looked around. No one hassled me. I probably looked too poor to rob. I watched the prostitutes with their glassy stares, and their pimps leaning against buildings chatting on their comms. I watched the dealers wait by corners taking money, and their runners give out little packets to cars that slowed and stopped, with their furtive drivers keeping the windows darkened as if anyone cared. I watched gangers in orange and brown chill in front of an old apartment building, guns clearly showing as they posed next to their bikes, and blathered and laughed among themselves. I saw a homeless family of orks living out of a tireless, rusted van, cooking rats over a pile of flaming tires. I saw junkies wandering in their own worlds, many of them with metal ports in their heads, similar to the one in the head of that old man who'd mugged me.

I'd landed in a ghetto, more or less. It was a step up from where I'd come to shore, but overall, it felt like a place where money was tight, and life was cheap. More than once I felt eyes measuring me up, faces frowning at me. I didn't quite belong, and it showed in how I moved. I knew I'd have to fix that.

More than once I passed someone walking and looking at things I couldn't see, or groping at the air as they went. Usually these were people wearing slightly better clothes… Thanks to my internet- er, Matrix binge, I knew that they were playing or looking with something called Augmented Reality. It was kind of hard to get, but basically the Matrix providers had found a way to put digital images and web links in geographical locations, only visible when you were in that location, and looking at them through special computer-rigged lenses. Like, that night club down the street was just a concrete block of a building with a single sign that said "Hells Belles", but judging from the number of folks that stopped and stared at the blank wall of the building, they had a big AR advertisement on the wall that you could only see through AR-enabled contacts, or glasses, or whatever. It probably had a few floating buttons that appeared in midair… Jab one to pay cover price and get through the door, poke another to request a lapdance from a particular girl, prod another to pay a couple of nuyen and get a personal desktop avatar and screensaver...

Once I got the whole concept of AR, it made what RPM had done back on the pier a little more understandable. The way he'd poked the air and muttered words puzzled me at the time, now I understood that what he was actually doing was using an AR interface to reprogram my commlink. Not bad.

It was pretty impressive, I imagined. Or it would be, if I could scare up a set of AR goggles. That punk I'd killed had probably had his AR piped directly to his cybereye, which I didn't have and didn't want to use even if I had managed to hang onto it.

But none of that mattered right now. What mattered was money, and finding the remedy to my current lack of it.

I had put one fear to rest, though. After walking the streets for eight blocks in each direction, I hadn't seen a single police car, or station, or anyone wearing a badge or uniform. I'd also seen two orks kicking the hell out of a drunken man in the alleyway next to a bar, one mugging, and two cars careening down the street, firing gunshots at each other.

It was actually a little depressing.

Then I made myself even more depressed, by checking in at random stores, motels, bars, clubs, anywhere that was open, and trying to find work.

Long story short, it didn't go so well. For anything that wasn't a total crap job, I needed a SIN. For a lot of the seedier places, I got hints that I could double my income by sleeping with the right employees, or "Auditioning" with the boss. In all cases, none of them offered anything that sounded like a good salary. Nothing that would get me that two thousand that I needed in the time that I needed it. In the few places that looked decent, I tried asking about cash advances, and drawing early pay, and got laughed at for my troubles.

Okay. So doing this the legal way wouldn't work.

Eventually, I ended up on the Western side of the avenues, within sight of the shoreline. I sat on the shadow of a long-abandoned NERPS factory, and lay back, looking at the sky. It was chock-full of pollution, and the moon failed to show her face.

I tried doing that old Wiccan trick of calling down the moon, charging yourself up by aligning yourself with the goddess in the moon, or something. I'd been a Wiccan for three months, back in my early phase of the vampire hunt. It hadn't stuck, and calling down the moon now using half-remembered rites did precisely nothing. Couldn't see the moon anyway, maybe that was it. So I lay back again, and thought.

I needed quick money. I couldn't do it legally. I'd have to do it illegally. Could I find a way to do it? Even if I said to hell with pride and started turning tricks left and right, I didn't think that'd earn me the money. And it'd probably get the local prostitutes and pimps after my hide. Bad idea. Drugs? Some money there, but I was an unknown. Who'd trust me to push coke or meth or whatever the hell they had now?

Running guns? Maybe. I didn't know the first thing about it. I didn't have stock. I didn't have contacts. I didn't know whose turf I'd be cutting in on by doing this, but I DID know they'd have guns. I didn't know what bullets would do to my happy vampire ass. Pass.

I was mulling over the pros and cons of robbery and breaking and entering, when something ran over my foot. I squeaked and kicked, and it squeaked back as it dived for cover. Rats! I immediately rolled over onto all fours, and started glaring around, as I felt for my gun. I still hadn't forgiven those little bastard rodents for the dumpster attack, and saw no reason not to get some target practice in on their general kind.

I stopped, as my eyes picked out the heat of about ten more moving through the small lot next to the factory, at high speed. They were running past me, ignoring me. Even the one I'd kicked had picked itself up and continued on its way. It was like they were converging on a single point and ignoring everything else. The hell? Had someone rung the ratty dinner bell?

This was weird. I got up, and followed after the rats at a light jog. They took me down an empty street and into a fallen, rubble choked lot that might once have been a small office building. I slowed down when I saw an open manhole with smoke pouring out of it, the cover lying discarded to one side. But the rats ran past it without hesitation, so I followed. When I heard voices and shifting metal, I slowed down and moved back into the darker shadows. Once again, I was thankful that my ears were so good.

"…Frakker hiding? Shouldn't take this long."

"Relax-" Metal screeched, I missed what the second voice had to say.

"If you say so. We don't bag her, this night's a waste and the Captain'll get on our hoops OHFRAK!"

Screeching and squealing, and I recognized the sounds of a swam of rats trying to bite someone's nipples off. I used the noise to creep closer, and peeked around a shredded cubicle wall just as fire flared! I ducked back in surprise, then stuck my head out again.

I saw two human men wearing heavy black jackets, in among the remnants of an office. Both of them had sunglasses on, despite the relative darkness of their surroundings. One of them had pulled out what looked like a weird version of a supersoaker… One made out of metal, with a blue flame dancing at the end of the barrel. The other one was ripping rats off his body and throwing them to the ground, stomping on them with heavy boots, and swearing.

The first man laughed, and that supersoaker-thing of his sprayed fire over the rats that had been stomped. The smell of burning polyester and cooked rat filled my nose, and I snorted. The fire was doing me no favors, throwing my heat vision off. Which is why I didn't notice the woman until the first man gave a triumphant shout, then moved faster than my eyes could follow, grabbed one dirt-encrusted arm, and threw a thin figure onto the ground next to the pile of burning rats.

I blinked and replayed the scene in my head. She'd burst out of some nearby rubble, tried to run for it, and he'd… Damn, that was quick. I'd only ever seen Master move that fast before.

Then the one who'd thrown her down turned her over on her front. It was a skinny elf with dirty hair of unknown color, and she was yelling and screaming and fighting, to no avail. The man with the flamethrower grinned. "Score one for the home team. Hang on, got the cuffs and mask here somewhere…" He started rummaging around in his pockets.

I felt my teeth itch. And as I ground them together, the fire died down a bit, and I got a pretty clear view of the figure on the ground.

It's hard to tell age with elves, but she looked young, under all those ragged, mismatched clothes and that grime. Younger than I'd been, back before life had turned to drek.

I tried to tell myself it didn't matter. There were two of them! But no matter what I told myself, I knew I'd be a weak coward if I just ran away.

Frak… Okay, no help for it. These two had to die.


	16. No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

**I do not own Shadowrun or aim to make any money as a result of this story. The setting is used without the permission of the appropriate corps, and is simply an exercise in amusement. Please don't sue me.**

CHAPTER 16: NO GOOD DEED GOES UNPUNISHED

It's a different thing to defend yourself, then it is to coldly consider the fact that you're going to kill someone. I'd already pegged these two as bad guys, but it was real work to slowly open up the coat pocket, and pull out the gun. I wondered, as I drew the hammer back, which one first?

The one that the rats had jumped was quick. On the other hand, guy number two had a flamethrower.

The elf got to her knees, and quick guy put his boot into her side. She screamed louder and curled into a fetal position, and the guy pulled out a hood of pure black fabric, and started to slide it over her head. That gave me the motivation I needed to pull the trigger.

The first shot missed, and I nearly dropped the gun it had kicked so hard. The two of them instantly whipped their heads around, ducking and looking for me. I managed to get the barrel pointed at the first man's chest, and fired again as he pointed and drew his own gun quick, so damn quick BLAM!

I was lucky. This time I got him, and he crumpled. My wrists were hurting like hell, and I scrambled back the way I'd come, as fire washed over my hiding spot. My foot got VERY hot all of a sudden, and I yelled and rolled over as I fell, managing to end up on my back. I could see my boot was burning, and I dropped the gun and hurried to pull it off, sobbing as my hands blistered. The boot finally came off and I shrieked to see the raw, cooked flesh under the melted remnants of the boot liner.

I jerked blurry eyes upward, as the sound of cautious footsteps drew my attention. Flamethrower guy wasn't done with me… I tried to stand, stumbled, and did a half-run half-lurch back toward the raw pipes and still-standing walls of a restroom. Ignoring the mold I threw myself in the corner, wedging myself in between a shattered toilet and a leaning stall partition.

I huddled there, trying not to cry. That fire had HURT. I stared at my charred foot, and sighed in relief, to see blackened skin flaking off, and new skin oozing up from beneath. The pain was still there, but at least my fast healing seemed to be able to deal with fire. That was good to know.

Suddenly, things got quiet. I clamped a hand over my mouth, trying to muffle my ragged breathing. My eyes slid left and right, but I couldn't see any sign of him… I'd picked a bad spot for watching the area, I was pretty well hidden, but my near surroundings were likewise hidden from me.

I reached for the gun, and remembered that I'd dropped it.

Without many options, I waited for maybe a half a minute, watching my foot heal and straining my ears for trouble. Finally, the skin was unblemished once more and the pain was gone. I moved into a crouch, carefully, lopsided in my one boot.

Was that something hissing?

I remembered the blue flame at the end of the flamethrower. If it worked like the movies, then yeah… It was the gas of that pilot light thing, hissing. Frak me, he was close!

My hands found a long shard of porcelain. Ignoring the grime on it, I gripped it tightly, and brought it up like a knife. I'd have to surprise him. One shot at this!

I burst out of the stall remnants, spun around at lightning speed, and managed to catch a blue light out of the corner of my eye. Keeping myself low to the ground I charged it, howling, and put my shoulder into the cube wall between myself and him… Knocking the cube wall over! YES!

I jumped on it, stabbing through the rotting cloth of the wall again and again, and felt the knife crunch against the ground every time. The hell?

Rolling off the wrecked partition, I risked lifting it up. There, still hissing away, was the flamethrower. It had been duct taped to the side of the cube. The flame was singing the rotten fabric, sending up foul-smelling smoke.

I blinked.

Something hit me in the back, and I fell over. A second later I heard the shot, and the pain kicked in. It hurt like hell, and I screamed while I tried to get my arms and legs moving again. It felt like swimming through jello, and every spastic, flailing movement sent burning agony through my spine.

A boot hit my side, and I rolled over, hissing back a shriek as my spine protested, and stared with wide open eyes at the frowning face looking down at me. I noted distantly that he didn't have any eyebrows, and his bald head had what looked to be a few screws set in along one side. A smoking revolver of some sort was in one gloved hand, and the barrel of it gaped down like an enormous black eye, as he bent over and pushed it into my face.

"You killed Flash, you, you frakking slitch. Five years, FIVE YEARS I been runnin' with him, and he dies to some no-name punk in the middle of a frakkin' dump on a lousy job ain't even paying me a full K!"

He kicked me. I screamed. My back started spasming. He spent a few moments stomping me, and I tried to cover my face with my hands, to no great success.

Distantly though, I noticed the burning pain in my back shifting… And after a few seconds, there was a sudden popping feeling, and the pain back there went from sharp to dull, and I was lying on something hard, small, and metal. The bullet had worked its way out as the regenerating tissues mended.

He was knocking me around and bruising the hell out of me, but those bruises were minor, and mending fast. To keep up the charade, I kept screaming and folding in on myself, as if trying to protect my vital spots. All I'd need was one clear chance.

I didn't get that chance. Finally, he got bored with kicking me, and grabbed me by the throat. He was strong, too strong, as I tried to pull his hand away. The other hand shoved the gun in my face again, and I froze. He pulled the hammer back, and the cylinder clicked into place with a final sound to it.

I didn't know if a bullet to the brain would kill me or not. This was looking pretty bad.

"Goodbye, kid. Sorry about this, but Flash was a friend." I looked in his eyes, and saw no mercy. I tried to move my arms, couldn't get them up fast enough.

BLAM!


	17. Death is Clean, Life is Messy

**I do not own Shadowrun or aim to make any money as a result of this story. The setting is used without the permission of the appropriate corps, and is simply an exercise in amusement. Please don't sue me. Alright… I'm heading to Gencon, so I'll post the last few chapters. Might be more later, but no guarantees…**

CHAPTER 17: DEATH IS CLEAN, LIFE IS MESSY

There was nothing. Absolutely nothing but blackness, and I was a part of it. There was pain and there was cold, but it was all so distant that I could ignore it and simply fade into the background.

I started letting the pain go, but it wouldn't shut up. I tried running from it, and it followed, gnawing, aching… And in the darkness, two red eyes opened, and SOMETHING hissed, and I screamed and jumped back, and then suddenly I was awake. My head hurt like hell, and thinking was like pushing my face through jell-o full of barbed wire, but I was awake.

There was a crawling on my legs and chest, and I looked down to see four or five large rats scuttling across me. I flashed back to the dumpster and started to flail and panic, but a slim hand grabbed mine and forced it down. "No!" Said an unfamiliar voice. I froze.

A dirty, elven face peered down at mine. I recognized the girl that they'd dropped. She nodded when she saw my eyes focus on her. "Good! Follow finger."

I blinked. She stuck a grimy digit right in front of my nose, and slowly moved it in patterns. I watched her as best I could, puzzled.

"Good, good. Lucky, you. Bullet hit brain, but rat brought you back. Healed you. Skittles asked nice, you see. Got concussion, but bleeding stopped. Will live. Probably." 

Hole in my brain. Great. I'd think on it later when thinking didn't feel so bad. "Skittles?" I ventured. I winced. It hurt to talk, too.

"Is name. My name. Sh, don't talk. Rest, got to turn you over soon. Check back."

I nodded. That hurt too. I let my eyes roam around, while I waited, and saw a booted foot behind a pile of rubble. Familiar looking boot, it had been kicking the shit out of me the last time I'd been conscious. The boot jerked and twitched, and as I watched a rat crawled into view down it, and looked at me. The rat's muzzle was coated with gore.

Skittles followed my eyes. She grinned, and I saw that she had buckteeth. Weird to see in an elf… "Stupid man kick Skittles in head, to keep Skittles out. Skittles play dead, wait until he busy with you. Rat stun him, then. Little sisters finish him now." I shuddered, as I saw the boot twitching. Even though he'd tried to kill me, getting eaten alive by rats seemed… Well. Good to know there were still a few things that could horrify me.

My brain protested about something, but I was still feeling out of it. After a few minutes things subsided to a dull ache. "Turn you over now," whispered Skittles.

It hurt, but not as much, and in a minute I was lying on my belly. She put her hands under my jacket and shirt, and I felt thin fingers roaming up and down my spine.

"Hm!"

She pulled her hands back and went quiet. I risked turning my head, and saw her frowning at a small, twisted lump of bloody metal.

The slug…

She put one hand on my neck, and pulled up my clothes, exposing most of my back to the air.

"How this be? Not heal you back. No scar. Rat always leave scar…"

I pulled my jacket back down, and tried to turn over. She leaned on my neck a little more, and her eyes went unfocused. She just stared in my general direction for about ten seconds, and I started to get worried.

Her shriek startled me, and she let go of my neck and scrambled back like I was a ticking time bomb. The rats followed her in a wave, and I stood, stumbled to my knees, and started to stand up again. I tried talking again. "Hey- Look, thanks… I don't know-"

"You! Flesheater! Hunter! Like Grand Avenue monsters! Not fool Skittles, not eat her!"

And with that, she ran like hell, disappearing into the rubble. The rats around me watched me with wary eyes, and I watched them back. If they jumped me now… After the longest half-minute of my existence to date, they seemed to decide I wasn't going to go after the elf, and started to scurry away in all directions.

After another minute, I managed to get upright. Good, I thought. I took three steps forward, the world started spinning around me, and I fell down and puked up blood. Okay, not so good, I thought. Finally after about ten minutes or so of lying in my regurgitated spew, I crawled upright and waited for the spinning to stop.

Walking around got easier once I picked up a chunk of rebar to steady myself. I used it like a cane, shambled my way over to the boot, and glanced around the edge of the rubble pile. Yep, dead man. Eyes were gone, eaten by the rats. They'd gotten to the rest of his exposed flesh as well. The bloodscent wafted up, but the sight of his half-chewed corpse was too revolting to tempt me. Still, I didn't feel like searching him. Too much gore, and I wasn't in any shape to deal with it.

I went back until I found the body of the quick man, "Flash", his friend had called him. I saw that my aim had been horrible… I'd been trying for his chest with that last shot, but he had a hole in his neck the size of my index and middle fingers put together. Plenty of blood here, and I sat next to him and swabbed my hand through the still-warm puddle, licking it clean after each time. Not much nourishment… Blood just doesn't sit right unless you're drinking it from the living, or the person's been dead less than a minute. Still, it soothed my tongue, and made my head hurt a little less.

After I felt good enough to think a little, I started going through Flash's jacket and pockets.

His jacket was an enormous duster, lined with heavy plates of some hard material. I thought about taking it, but there was no way it'd fit me. He had a shoulder holster with a sleek, intimidating looking gun in it… It weighed about as much as the one I took from the ork, but was about a third smaller. I pocketed the gun and the holster. He had a commlink, and I thought about taking it, but decided against it. Without RPM to reprogram it, it probably wouldn't be much use to me. And if it was like the phones I'd grown up with, there were ways to track it.

He had a small plastic cylinder, similar to the item that had been used to kill Master. I waved it a bit, but the end didn't come loose. I remembered that RPM had used one of these to give me money, called it a credstick. Seemed to be worth pocketing.

He also had a couple of rectangular clips of ammo, and I took those. Nothing else on him.

I looked around at the crumbled office building, and the carnage, and shambled down to the water. It was dirty and repulsive, full of trash that I didn't want to think too much about, but I dipped through the scum and washed myself as best as I could. At the end I was foul-smelling and filthy, but I figured most of the bloodsmear was gone.

My hands probed my scalp, and I found a puckered scar just above my forehead. Pushing against it almost made me vomit again, as vertigo hit me. Not so good. Still, it was under the hair. Probably not too noticeable. I found a scar in the middle of the back of my skull, too. That was likely the exit wound. I couldn't feel a thing when I pushed against it, and somehow that worried me.

Thankfully, no one accosted me as I dragged myself back to the Bunker. Peak hours on the street were starting to end, and no one seemed to want to be caught on the streets after midnight. I locked myself into my coffin, laundered my clothes, had a bath, and fell into sleepy oblivion.


	18. IllGotten Gains

**I do not own Shadowrun or aim to make any money as a result of this story. The setting is used without the permission of the appropriate corps, and is simply an exercise in amusement. Please don't sue me. **

CHAPTER 18: ILL-GOTTEN GAINS

I woke up to one hell of a headache. After lying there for an indeterminate amount of time, I reached up and punched the monitor over to the time counter. It was almost two in the afternoon… I'd slept for about 13 hours straight. The clock told me that I had fifteen hours of coffin-time left.

My back felt fine. My head still felt raw, and it was still kind of hard to think. Well, that answered that question. Bullets on the whole weren't so lethal to me, I'd heal them like anything else. Bullets to the brain, on the other hand… That crazy elf, Skittles, had said she'd healed me. Or rats healed me, or whatever. Would I have recovered if she hadn't? I thought no. And even if I was wrong, it wasn't worth taking the risk.

I remembered Master, fighting on with a good third of his head cut off, and brain exposed and glistening in the light of the muzzle flashes… Maybe as vampires get older, they get more resilient. That'd match with a lot of the fiction that I'd read.

I took out the new gun and considered it. Then I frowned. I'd dropped MY gun out there, and hadn't picked it up on my way back. Didn't seem like a good idea to go back and look for it, crazy rat lady would be out there. I wondered what her deal was, then decided it wasn't important. Whatever reason those guys had to go after her, I wanted none of it.

As I took inventory, I pulled out the cylinder I'd found. Wasn't much to look at, black plastic with a LED display of green lights, and a small button under a flip-up cover. I pushed the button, and my commlink chimed. My eyes widened as I saw the letters on my screen, INCOMING TRANSFER = 800 NY. OKAY? Y/N

I hit Y, and the green lights on the cylinder cycled, and went red. My commlink's account grew by 800, and I closed it, and put it away. I saw why RPM had called this type of thing a credstick.

I kept the empty credstick. Might come in handy.

800 nuyen, just like that, and I was almost half of the way to my goal… All it had cost was getting shot, really. I felt the scars on my head. Wasn't sure I liked the trade.

I didn't know what to do, and it hurt to think, so I rolled over and stared at the wall. Eventually, I slept again.


	19. On the Hunt

**I do not own Shadowrun or aim to make any money as a result of this story. The setting is used without the permission of the appropriate corps, and is simply an exercise in amusement. Please don't sue me. **

CHAPTER 19: ON THE HUNT

I lay there for two full days, watching time tick away. When it got low I paid to reset it, out of my much-more-substantial account.

The first day I was depressed as hell, and it still hurt to think or do much. I tried to make plans to get the remaining three-fifths of RPM's fee, but kept coming up blank. The few times I tried to leave the coffin, I felt dizzy, tired. My head hadn't mended, yet. A small part of me wondered if I was stuck that way, and I tried to ignore it.

The second day, I was feeling better. And I was feeling Hunger, too… There was still a little vertigo when I got up, but it faded after I walked around the Bunker a little. Got hit on by a Hispanic dwarf, named Escoban. Nice guy, we talked for a while about nothing much for a while.

While he checked me out from behind dark glasses I wondered… This was pretty much a slum, but had anyone heard about those guys that the ratgirl and I had killed? It could cause me trouble if that was the case. I decided to go fishing.

"Hey, do you know the ruins by the waterfront at the end of the street? The old factory?"

"Yeah, sure! I could show you around if you wanna see them. It's safe there if you with me, no one gon' bother you while Escoban' aroun'. " When he smiled, some of his teeth were gold. I headed his intentions off at the pass.

"No, that's fine. I mean, a friend and I were out there two nights ago, and there were some guys shooting at each other. I think one of them died."

"No foolin'? What these homes look like, chica?"

"Uh, well, they had long coats and one of them had screws in his head. They looked pretty serious-"

"Wait, screws?" Escoban had lost the shit-eating grin, and suddenly he was all business. "Like he had some cyber in him?" 

"Uh, yeah."

"Where you say this was?"

"West of here." That attitude shift of his bothered me. I kept my face blank though, as he hopped off the coffin he was on, and offered me a hand.

"C'mon, this sounds good. You show me where it is, I treat you to dinner."

I checked the time. Five o'clock.

"All right. I need to take a detour first, promised a friend I'd pick up a few things for her." I hadn't promised anyone anything, but if I could stall until nightfall, I'd be in a better position if he tried something.

"Sure, sure. Les' go."

On the way out, he slipped toward the bathroom. "Back in a few, chica."

I nodded, and smiled vacantly, and the alarms went off in the back of my mind. Why hadn't he used his coffin's toilet? The public restrooms were disgusting, no one in their right mind would go in there without second thoughts.

I leaned against the wall next to the restroom, and focused my ears. Sure enough, the little jerk was calling someone. Every third word was in Spanish, but I got the gist of it… He was calling some friends of his, telling them to bring saws and trash bags. He figured that someone named Dotoray Espada would pay money for secondhand cyber. Come to think of it, RPM had harvested that eye from that punk for a reason…

I grinned. Dinner? Screw that. This was a source of cash I hadn't even considered. And I'd be damned if I let some mexican dwarf screw me out of benefitting from MY kill.

In fact, I didn't need him for this. And if he was calling in friends, it probably meant that I wouldn't see jack squat out of it, if he got involved.

So I beat feet out of there, ran through the guard station without pausing, hit the button, and got clear outside of the Bunker. The sunlight hit me and there was pain, but I was ready for it, and I held it together while I jogged down the street. When I got into the shadows again, I looked around and managed to find a thrift store to duck into. Once inside, the windows were grimy enough that I could operate without feeling like I was being slowly baked. I picked through the racks while I waited for the sun to set. There were enough customers around, that I blended in without much trouble.

After the clerks started glaring at me, I made a show of picking through a few items. Actually ended up buying some shoes that fit. Finally, the sun went down and I made my way outside.

Nightlife was more subdued tonight, but I didn't stop to look. I had a goal, and time was wasting.


	20. Scavenger Surprise

**I do not own Shadowrun or aim to make any money as a result of this story. The setting is used without the permission of the appropriate corps, and is simply an exercise in amusement. Please don't sue me. **

CHAPTER 20: SCAVENGER SURPRISE

It was a tense trip through the Avenues. People seemed to be on edge tonight… Not as many on the streets. What had changed in the few hours that I'd been in the thrift store?

Something else was off, but I couldn't put my finger on it. Something different about the crowd…

I got my answer as an armored car with red and blue lights came into view at the corner ahead, and started cruising down the block. I heard jostling and shoving behind me, and turned to see a homeless guy who'd been sitting on a stoop pick up and run like his life depended on it. The crowd gave way to him, as doors hissed open on the cruiser, and figures surged out, anonymous behind face shields and black armored vests. They moved quickly, and I backed the hell up as they passed me, and did my best to hurry down the street without running or being obvious.

When I felt safe enough to look back, I saw them dragging the homeless guy back to their cruiser. He had tusks, and that's when I realized what was off. So far the night crowd had been mostly human…

They were rounding non-humans up? Wow. Just my luck… I gnawed a lip and ignored the queasiness in my guts, as I went on my way. No reason to panic, really. You LOOK human. They can't tell. They won't come after you. Keep telling yourself that, Julie…

I actually made pretty good time to my destination, with the streets as empty as they were. Another armored car passed me as I walked, and didn't even slow down. Soon enough I was back on the west side, back considering the ocean, on the remnants of the waterfront.

No trail of rats this time, but I remembered the way. The office building remnants were where I'd left them… But something was different, and I faded back into the shadows as I heard a strange sound. It was a whining, grinding machine noise that set my teeth on edge. Then the sound stopped, and I heard a more familiar noise.

It was one I'd only heard a few times in the lair, when Master had grown VERY displeased with one of his ganger servants. So it took me a second to place it, once it jogged my memory. But trust me in this: once you hear it, you never quite forget the sound of a limb being ripped off a human's body. Someone was scavenging the corpses. Someone was stealing my kill! And I had no doubts as to just who it was!

Escoban!

That bastard. That bastard had beaten me here, had found the site I'd so foolishly told him about! Stupid frakking little horny bastard! After all I'd done to lose him!

I pulled the gun with a shaking hand, then shoved it away. I was through hiding! I was furious! I was hungry! I would frakking EAT Escoban!

With a snarl, fangs deployed and steaming in the night air, I charged into the clearing between the cubicle remnants and SCREAMED in pure rage…

…As two strange figures scrambled back in terror, leaving behind metal implements, raw meat and bloody remains, and an old-style doctor's bag with an arm sticking out of it.

I stopped. I blinked.

They cringed. They were wearing long coats with patchwork sewn onto them, and hoodies drawn over their faces… But the faces themselves were WRONG. Milky eyes staring in my direction in abject terror, withered, grey skin where it was showing, and ragged bony talons poking out of their gloved fingertips. To my vampire's sight, their body heat was off, too… They were almost heatless in places. Even with all the coverings they had, they shouldn't have the dimness that they had.

One was wearing a surgical mask over his nose and mouth, and was holding a circular saw. The other had smears around his mouth, and yellowed, blackish teeth. As I watched, a severed human toe fell from his lips as he gaped at me.

I couldn't help it. I snorted, and chuckled as I felt my teeth retract. Sitting on a nearby chunk of rubble, I drew my knees up as I chuckled, and studied them. They were just so terrified… Of ME! And they weren't Escoban, so my urge to kill was fast disappearing. I watched as they slowly lowered their arms and straightened up, looking nonplussed toward the giggling girl before them.

I guess I should have been scared, but I wasn't. Those two gunman I'd gone up against earlier, they'd been trained killers, fast and lethal. These two… I'd gotten the drop on them with barely any effort, and they'd been frozen with fear. And in the back of my skull, some instinct was telling me that these things were neither prey nor predator. Some vampire's instinct.

Also, the dropped toe chew-toy was just funny. One of those "you-had-to-be-there" things, I guess.

The one without the mask sniffed the air a few times, and tensed up again. When his companion started the saw up and readied to charge me, the sniffer grabbed his shoulders, and shouted in surgery-guy's ear. Didn't catch it, but the saw got shut off right quick, and they started backing up.

Before they turned and ran, I rose to my feet with a fluid motion. I figured I'd try a forceful but polite approach.

"You were stealing from my kill." I said, frowning at them and putting my hands on my hips.

The one with the surgical mask pulled it down and spoke. Huh, between the voice and the remnants of the face, that one was female. Wouldn't have guessed it otherwise. "We, ah, we're sorry miss. Lady. Uh… Really, we thought they were abandoned…"

"You thought wrong. But mistakes happen." I said, letting the frown go. The male creature relaxed, bent over and popped the toe back into his mouth again. I had to fight to keep a straight face.

"Well. Our apologies, but we had no way of knowing. The bodies had been baking for a few days… Rats were eating them… We thought they were well and truly abandoned, and decided to take some meat. We're just hungry, that's all."

I walked over to the abandoned doctor's bag, and pulled the severed arm from it. It had looked oddly intact for a three day old body part, and my earlier glance at it was vindicated. It WAS odd, in that it was artificial. Metal structure was revealed where a saw had cut through the parts joining it to the rest of the body… The arm itself was steel and plastic and something like latex flesh.

I quirked an eyebrow at the pair. "This is a little crunchy for your appetites, I think." I kept my voice light, and waggled the arm at them. With a little work I got the fingers to shake reprovingly.

"Er, sorry. Waste not want not," said the female, as she spread her hands, waving the saw around. "Besides, we've got friends who pay good cash for such remnants. It's win-win. We get a meal from the fleshy bits, they get to recycle the cyber, everyone profits. It's understandable, isn't it?"

Hm. This had promise.

The male was tucking a hand back into his jacket, at about belt height, and fiddling with something. Probably a hidden holster… I shot him another glare, and he froze. I looked back to the female.

"Well, I can see that. And hey, to be fair I was pretty late in coming back to claim these. So… How about this? I've got no ill-will against you. You can have the meat for free, and you give me two grand for the cyber on these guys, and we'll call it a night."

The female… The woman, put the saw away in her jacket, and offered a rictus of a grin. Her friend relaxed. THIS they could deal with. "Two thousand? Ah, you're joking. We'll lose money! No, see, six hundred would be more than fair…"

After a few minutes of back and forth dickering, she grudgingly gave way and we settled on eighteen hundred. I still got the feeling that I'd asked too little, but oh well. I had them fooled with my Bigger-Evil-Than-Thou act, and bigger evils don't act ignorant. If I'd underbid, well, I was obviously being merciful. She could go on thinking that.

Finally we shook on it. Her hand was about as cold as mine. "Alright. Once we finish butchering we'll take the remains back, and return with the cred-"

"I don't think so." I shook my head.

She tried to look hurt. "We don't carry money or comms on us. I'll have to get it from Leer."

"Alright. Then your friend here goes. You stay here and finish the job, and then we'll wait until he comes back with the credstick. " I pointed at the male. He looked to her, and after a long while she nodded. "All right. Guess it'll save time," she muttered. She pulled out the saw again, and moved toward the remnants. I looked up at the male, who started backing up. As he turned around I called "Hey."

He turned and looked back. I grinned, fangs out. "No funny business, alright? Good mood, here. Let's keep that going." I patted the female on the shoulder, and the male shuddered, then turned and ran.

The fangs were back in as I glanced down to meet her milky-eyed gaze. "He a good friend?" I asked.

"Saved my hoop a few times." She replied, dead eyes not leaving my face.

"Okay, good. So… What's your name?"

She blinked. For a good while she was silent, then she straightened up from her hunched position, and looked down at me. From this angle she had about a foot on me.

"I'm Becka."

She was surprised when I offered her a handshake again. "Julie."

She was calmer after that, not saying much but laying into the corpses, using the saw to carve out important bits… Wrapping the rotted meat in plastic sheeting, putting the metallic bits in the doctor's bag after they'd been wiped free of gore... I could tell she'd done it before. She was pretty good.

After a few minutes I relaxed and let her work, as I considered how the situation had gone down. This had gone pretty well. I'd come in angry, and shifted it into a position of confidence. Because I'd acted like I was in total control of the situation, I'd gained total control of the situation.

Wow.

Was it really that simple?

I'd have to try this again later.

And so I sat and watched the deformed cannibal woman at her grisly work for about twenty minutes or so, feeling not at all revolted, and more than a little jubilant.

For once, things were going my way.

No sooner had I thought that, then from down the street, I heard leathery feet pounding the pavement. A LOT of leathery feet. My vision picked out dark forms, some hunched over and prowling toward me on all fours, others crouched low, bearing what looked to be guns. Some were clothed, some were not, and they were coming FAST.

Becka stood as the noise reached her a moment later, and wiped blood from the saw as she glanced at me, worried. "Hey… I don't know what Lloyd said to them. I swear we didn't plan this! Please don't kill me…"

She was tensed to run, but I was already moving, clapping a hand on her shoulder, gun in my other hand. She flinched when she saw the gun, and I nodded to myself. Good, bullets were a threat to them.

I'd considered running for a second, rejected it just as fast. They were quick and they were many, and I didn't know the terrain THAT well. No, something told me that my survival depended on keeping up the act, keeping the alpha predator mask ON, and not backing down.

Absurdly, as the charging humanoids split and broke around the area, and started to creep up in a circle around me, I remembered a story my mom had told me once, when I was young. About the young rajah who'd sworn to ride a tiger as warriors ride a horse. Well he succeeded… But as he rode along, he realized that the second he got off the tiger, the great cat would eat him up without hesitation.

And as the circle of cannibal creatures farthest away from me parted, a massive figure stepped forward. It was steel-masked, musclebound, grey-skinned and holding a sledgehammer loosely from one hand. The mask amplified the noise as it snorted in my direction, catching my scent before striding forward to tower over us. It had chains criss-crossing its bare torso, hooked to various piercings, and a pair of ragged leather pants covering its lower body. It REEKED of aggression and danger. But I was committed, now.

I knew that I too was riding the tiger. And like the young rajah, I couldn't get off now.

And I watched it halt before me, as the circle of creatures tensed, ready to leap as one…


	21. Pack Politics

**I do not own Shadowrun or aim to make any money as a result of this story. The setting is used without the permission of the appropriate corps, and is simply an exercise in amusement. Please don't sue me. **

**Oh, incidentally… I've toyed with the idea of putting together a character sheet for Spark. If you're interested in seeing one, let me know with a review comment.**

CHAPTER 21: PACK POLITICS

"I don't believe we've been introduced." I said as the masked horror in front of me stared down. "You can call me Spark." I smiled. My hand was firm on Becka's shoulder, and the gun in my other hand was pointing safely down.

"Or I could call you dead meat," said the creature, in a rumbling voice.

I kept the smile going, while my mind worked overtime. All right, that's how he was going to play it... Didn't look good but he hadn't done anything yet... Becka's muscles were tensing under my hand... Wait. Wait, wait. I flicked my eyes around the semi-circle of monsters in front of me. About a hundred feet back, more. Their buddies behind me, probably the same distance. THINK, Julie. Treat it like a puzzle. How do you solve it?

This guy definitely had the alpha vibe going. I knew how THAT worked from long observations of Mas- er, Ruthven. Probably the only thing saving me was my hostage. He was one of her pack... He'd lose face if she died. But it looked like he'd lose face if he treated me with kid gloves. The creatures out there that weren't fearful had an anticipatory vibe to them. From the read I got on the situation, it looked like he was stuck either way. He was threatened, and if he got too scared then I'd be dead. Fear wasn't the answer. Could we get through this, get to a place where he was unstuck, didn't feel threatened, and I was out of danger? If he was less of a douche than Ruthven, then maybe I could. If he was as brutal as he looked, though… This was going to be tricky. Still, he seemed to value Becka and she seemed like a perfectly decent person, if you ignored the cannibalism. That gave me a little hope.

Okay, first step was communication. We wouldn't get far without it, and maybe if I was lucky… I decided to ask the first question. My lips held fairly close together, I breathed out quiet words. "How good are your ears, big guy?"

The masked creature tilted its head. He rumbled. "Good enough, dead meat."

Alright, alright, this could maybe work out. Second question, whispered. "Can your friends back there hear us talking like this?"

A pause, and his posture changed slightly. A shake of his head, as he leaned forward, and the circle drew in a step. And I almost lost my poker face in a relieved sigh, as he whispered back. "No. But you'd best talk quickly if you've got something to say." He had gotten the idea! I had a chance.

Alright. Now for the pitch. "I really just want the money we agreed upon for selling Becka and Lloyd my kills. I've got no interest in harming any of you, and was quite willing to let Becka go after I'd been paid fair and square. Don't know what Lloyd told you, but that's my entire stake in this. I COULD shoot her and go to mist, (a lie but he didn't need to know that...) but I'd rather not. Any chance we can get out of this in a friendly manner?"

The figure snorted. Another shake of the metal-cased head, and he leaned on the hammer. "Now what are we to do with you?" He pondered out loud, then followed it up with a whisper. "Selling? Okay, you've got me interested. You're going to need to pretend to submit to me. Simply release Becka and kneel, baring your neck. After that we can talk about deals."

Okay, he was more intelligent than he looked. More than he showed. I maybe had a chance here. I turned my head slightly to find yellow-white eyes staring back into mine... Becka was looking at me with hope on her face. Of course she'd heard the whole thing, I'd practically been whispering in her ear. I winked at her, and felt her shoulder untense under my hand.

"Deal." I muttered, and holstered the gun. I took my hand away from Becka, holding it up as she blinked, and hurried over behind the masked man.

"I surrender," I called as my knees hit the ground, and I tilted my head back. I saw that the moon was out, and this lifted my heart a little. If things went entirely wrong, then at least I'd have a good view before I got torn to shreds.

I heard the ring of creatures around me patter in on leathery feet, then jump back as the sledgehammer in the giant's hands SLAMMED down next to me. I won't lie, I jumped, and my fixed smile slipped. It was entirely gone by the time one large, grey hand wrapped itself around my neck, and lifted. It was not comfortable in the slightest, but I let myself go limp like a kitten. _Remember, he thinks you can turn to mist. Remember, don't let it show that you're afraid…_ Half of me was terrified. The other half was remembering the promise I'd made… _No one gets to hurt me!_ I held back the instinct to rip him to shreds, that would only get me killed, here! Still, it was rough. Something within me kept insisting that I was better than them, a superior predator, and I shouldn't have to endure this from THEM!

Just as I was about to decide 'Screw It' and go for his arms, he dropped me.

"THEN YOU MAY LIVE FOR NOW," roared the creature. "SO COMMANDS LEER." I sprawled on the ground, coughing slightly as I rubbed my throat. A glance around showed guns lowering, and the scuttling figures moving back away from his show of strength. They were too close for whispering to work with… Leer, anymore. But that was fine, the milestone had been passed. The alpha had retained his authority, and the situation had been defused. I let my anger fade.

I sat there for a second, as the mask tilted to look at Becka. "Are you done with the harvest?" She nodded, and picked up the doctor's bag, and a few wrapped bits of cyberware that hadn't fit.

Leer grabbed my arm and jerked me to my feet, as he waved the sledgehammer at the remnants that had once been human. "Then feed, my children."

I looked away as the pack surged forward, and the tearing noises began. I hadn't had a problem while Becka was ripping the corpse apart for salvage… God knows I'd seen plenty of corpses in my time… But this was a little different. This was sheer Hunger with a capital H, and it made my own flare up just a bit in response. I tried to keep my fangs from sliding out, and my face twisted as I worked to keep them from becoming visible.

Feeling a gaze upon me, I looked up to find the mask very close to my face. This near, I could see the cataract-covered white eyes peering out from the holes, catch a glimpse of parchment-like withered skin around them. He whispered to me, while the pack fed and our faces were inches apart. "Your choice, vampire. I could let you go now and we could part now, no harm, no foul. Or you can come back with us and we can talk about future business. I think we could be of benefit to one another…"

I thought it over, but not too long. _Riding the tiger, riding the tiger, doesn't know you can't turn to mist, keep up the façade… _

"Let's talk business." I whispered, grinning, feeling my fangs halfway out. "Your people have been quite reasonable so far, with the exception of Lloyd."

I thought the eyes smiled a bit. Hard to tell under the white lumps. "All right," Leer said.

He turned me to face the pack as they finished their meal, and laughed long and loud. "As for you, dead meat… Come, and I shall decide your fate."

"Let's kill her!" Shouted a voice from the back, and he waved a hand. "Perhaps."

"Let's EAT her." That voice was gurgled, and barely human. Leer laughed. "I may."

"Let's hurrrrrrrtttt her…." A high-pitched voice, and the one who said it had a mouthful of twisted teeth, and arms that were too long and spindly for its torso. I glared at it, and it licked a long tongue along the remnants of its lips. It was hard to suppress a shudder of revulsion. They seemed to take it as a shudder of fear. "We shall see." Leer said, sounding bored.

"Why walk back home? Eat her now!" The gurgling voice shouted again, and in the blink of an eye Leer took three steps forward and swung the sledgehammer in a rising arc. A grey, ragged-clothed figure flew back, hit the remnants of a swivel chair, and thrashed on the ground, shrieking. The pack stood in stunned horror, then shrank back as Leer walked forward, dragging me along until I found my feet. I stood upright as he planted one foot on the fallen monster, ignoring its gasps of pain. "I am the leader. I am the strongest. Say it!"

"Ghahahhahhehehheh… You are the leaderghahhah…"

He pulled his foot back. "I am the leader, and I have decided that we take her back. I decide what to do with her. THAT IS MY RIGHT! DOES! ANYONE! CARE! TO! DISPUTE! THAT?"

There was a resounding silence. The battered, shrieking creature sobbed itself into silence, then pulled itself up. I whistled… After a hit like that, it would have been a collapsed lung on your average human, or worse. He was definitely hurt, but could still stand… These things were TOUGH. I was insanely glad that I hadn't tried to fight my way out, it probably wouldn't have gone well. Maybe I WAS a higher order predator, but I was a young and inexperienced one. These things probably had a lot more experience with fighting than I did.

I was ready when Leer walked back and seized my arm, and I faked a gasp of pain as he hauled me along. Becka trotted along beside, and the rest of the pack followed, as we melted into the night, under the light of the pale orb of the moon…


	22. Deals and Deja Vu

**I do not own Shadowrun or aim to make any money as a result of this story. The setting is used without the permission of the appropriate corps, and is simply an exercise in amusement. Please don't sue me.**

CHAPTER 22: DEALS AND DEJA VU

After a few blocks, Leer stopped hauling on my arm. I glanced around as we went, but none of the pack seemed to find it strange. Part of it was probably the assumption that their alpha could handle it After all, Leer had asserted dominance over me. I wasn't a threat anymore.

At least, I hoped that was what they had going through their somewhat-scattered minds. I could deal with being underestimated. I liked being underestimated. Lots more chances to get out of bad situations or turn the tables, if you're patient and meek enough.

But it wasn't entirely disdain for my potential threat that turned their heads. No, every member of the pack seemed to be watching the not-so-distant lights. They flinched at the sirens, and stopped abruptly whenever one of the red-and-blue flashing lights looked to be coming near.

None did, though. All of them turned well before hitting the last few streets by the waterfront. Couldn't blame them, nothing down here but ruined buildings, maybe some squatters who were smart enough to stay WELL out of sight, and us monsters.

"Saito's on the prowl again," rumbled Leer. I glanced over at him, and remembered the online browsing session I'd done.

"Saito's the one in charge around here, right? What's this do for him?" I asked, keeping my voice low and conversational.

The mask turned my way. "Shows power. Lets him round up orks and trolls to keep his people happy. Some elves and dwarves who can't afford the right bribes. Then he throws them out of his heh, perfect little paradise." That low, powerful voice was filled with such sarcasm on the last few words. It sounded more than standard cynicism. Sounded almost personal.

I met the mask's eyeholes with my own gaze. "But not your people," I said.

"Of course not," the eyes narrowed. "We're shoot on sight, with bounties on our heads. Just the heads, sanitized and bagged so we won t spread our disease to the pure and perfect. Fifty for males, one hundred for females. Population control, you see. Can't have ghoul children running around after all."

Ghouls! Okay, I'd heard something about this, back when I was stupid and trying to track down REAL VAMPIRES . They were one of the metahuman types that some people changed into, back when magic returned. Ugly, monstrous, cannibals Yeah, that jibed with what I'd seen so far.

Still I wasn't sure I was in any position to judge. And heads bagged for chump change seemed morally questionable in its own right.

I realized I'd been quiet too long. "You mentioned business, earlier."

He didn't slow down. "We'll talk once we're inside."

Inside turned out to be a fallen parking garage. My enhanced eyes picked out faded letters in worn paint, over a few intact walls. GRAND AVENUE GARAGE.

My memory recalled a shrieking elf child, not long ago. _You! Flesheater! Hunter! Like Grand Avenue monsters!_

That little outburst made a lot more sense now. Ratgirl probably lived on the streets. No great leap of logic required to see that this bunch would be dangerous to her.

While I was musing, the ghouls were picking through the rubble. The garage was a mess, all crumbling and fallen concrete chunks and bent, exposed plasteel struts. Three or four floors clawed up toward the night sky, but I wouldn't trust any of them to hold a person, let alone a car anymore.

Fortunately, the pack wasn't going UP. As they swarmed in, they moved rubble aside, revealing paths into the bottom floor. And the darkness in the center of it where it had fallen away, indicated that they were going lower still.

I found my eyes watching some groaning, half-buckled support pillars as I followed Leer. "The last few quakes were not kind," he said. "Still, it hasn't fallen yet." He didn't sound too concerned. Who knows? Maybe he could survive something like that.

It wasn't pleasant picking my way down into the rubble-choked tunnel. Vision that sensed heat didn't do so well here. The further down it went, the more every part of the tunnel looked like the other. If it weren't for the pack of ghouls around me, I'd have gone down blind ends, stumbled around in a few places, and made twice the noise I did.

But in the end, persistence won through, and we ended up in one of the sub-levels. Water was leaking in here, and pillar after crumbling pillar held up the roof. Moss grew wild on the walls, and tarps strung between a few of the pillars partitioned off what looked to be dwelling spaces. A few lanterns gleamed here and there, and the air was pungeant with rot.

I caught a glimpse of movement in one of those dwelling spaces as I passed, and froze. There was a girl chained there, naked and rocking back and forth. Her hair was falling out, and she was rubbing her face over and over again. That brought back all sorts of bad memories

I shot an angry glance at Leer, but found Becka in the way, shaking her head at me. "She got bitten by one of our ferals. She's changing. Unsafe to everyone until it's done. Maybe even after."

I held her eyes for a long minute. She didn't like what she saw there, and looked away. "We have to do this. I don't- We don't like it. But not everyone comes through the change sane."

Well. I knew something about that. Still, I promised myself I'd do something for the girl if I could. But first I'd sort out my own situation.

The rest of the pack had scattered through the floor, moving to their various dwellings or sitting down in scavenged furniture. A few took up posts by the door, and I saw with surprise that they had gotten assault rifles from somewhere. Made sense, really. I could use a gun, no reason they couldn't.

I had lost Leer for a second, but soon reacquired him. He was leaning against the wall by a utility door, and he tipped me a lazy wave as he saw me looking. "Step into my office." It wasn t a request, but his tone was friendly enough.

Inside, I was surprised to find that it WAS an office. Well, sort of. A couple of plank shelves supported a random assortment of moldy books, a rusty steel desk divided the too-small room, and a couple of old-style filing cabinets were in the back. But my eyes were drawn to the glow on the desk. A wavery holographic image flickered and shone above something that looked like a lunchbox. Probably another commlink.

"Shut the door, have a seat, and tell me what you want." The masked giant rumbled, as he put his sledgehammer carefully into the corner. I followed instructions, finding the moldy swivel chair pretty comfortable. He folded himself behind the desk like a gray spider, eyes looking out at me from the holes in the mask. He was being nice now, but I wasn't fooled. _Still riding the tiger..._

"I want the fee that I negotiated from Becka, for letting her harvest the cyberware from my kills."

"Does Ruthven know you're out here, killing norms on his turf?"

I felt my poker face crumble, fought to twist it into something other than shock, then gave it up and looked away. Of course one monster would know another.

"Ruthven's dead," I muttered.

I heard a rhythmic metallic tapping, looked up to find Leer drumming his fingers on the desk. "I've heard that one before, and it's been false," he said. "Though there WAS a recent mishap at his home."

"I was there for that."

I watched the heat signature shift. He d ceased drumming his fingers. Uh-oh, this could be bad.

"I didn't kill him. I saw who did, though."

"How did they kill him?" For a second my paranoia got the better of me. Did he want to duplicate the feat, using my fragile frame? Logic prevailed, though. There were enough vampire legends out there, and he had net access, so I wouldn't be telling him anything he hadn't heard already.

"They shanked him with a wooden knife. Left it in his heart. Set a bomb next to his corpse."

Leer digested this for a second. The fingers started tapping again. "And you survived these assailants. How?"

"Barely," I admitted. "They were pretty serious. Heard one of them say he was paying the rent."

Leer shifted back. Oddly enough, his posture suggested relief. "Ah. Runners. Well that's one mystery solved. For a certain definition of solved. Although questions remain... How did you know Ruthven?"

It was going to sound corny as hell. Well, maybe not. "He was my sire. We didn't see eye-to-eye." Nope, definitely corny. Truthful, at least.

"Mm. Was it your doing, with those runners?" He didn't sound upset. "A tiff with dad?"

"No. I don't know who sent them. They talked about a deal while they were there, but I m pretty sure it was just a ruse to get inside."

"Well, then it sounds like Ruthven is dead after all. Don t take it personally, but I find myself with a distinct deficit of sorrow upon this particular happening."

My read on him told me it was worth taking a chance. "I'm of the same mind."

"No love lost between the two of you, then?"

"None. He was an evil asshole and I'm glad he's dead."

He got a laugh out of that. Relaxed even more. "I'm guessing he didn't leave you the family business in his will."

"No. Whatever he was in, I'm not."

"So it's up for grabs, then." He reached into the desk, pulled out a bottle, offered me some. The alcoholic scent was overwhelming and I waved it off with a polite grimace. Didn't stop him from lifting up the lower part of the mask, and taking a swig. Every part of flesh revealed on his face looked like it had been char-broiled long ago. Cooked hamburgers came to mind. I avoided staring.

Finally, he lowered the bottle. "Mm. How much did Becka promise you for your generosity?"

"Eighteen-hundred."

"Fair enough, I suppose. And the information you just told me is going to be quite useful... Very well then." Leer reached into the desk, and pulled out a familiar-looking cylinder. He waved it through the hologram, and I saw the nuyen symbol flash past as it BEEPed. I took it, clicked the button and glanced down at my screen. INCOMING TRANSFER =1800 NY.

This was it. This was a goal met, and a big one. I felt relief course through my frame before I could gather myself, and part of my brain shrieked. _No, no. Play it cool. Still riding the tiger!_ I hit Y, and watched it adjust, before I handed the empty credstick back to the masked giant. There might have been amusement in his eyes, as he took it back.

"You're quite young, aren't you?"

I smiled, felt sadness twist my grin. It probably came out a little wry. "Not as young as I look."

"But not on the same scale as Ruthven. Oh, no offense meant. It just reminds me how old I've gotten. The weights I have to carry. Makes it hard to breathe, some days. Do you mind?" Before I could answer, he lifted his hands to his face, and removed his mask.

It was worse than I'd thought. His face was a charred lump of flesh over his skull. His milky-looking eyes looked like boiled eggs in the midst of an overdone steak. Bare nasal cavity showed through the remains, and receded lips revealed piranha-like rows of yellowed teeth.

And yet, it wasn't a shock. It didn't scare me. The mask was fearsome, his muscled and pierced body was horrific, and his face the most hideous part of all. He was a flesh-eater, likely a murderer, and probably guilty of crimes I couldn't even imagine. But he didn't hide what he was. And he had depths to him, this ghoul king. He'd been willing to talk and deal, so long as he could look strong in front of his pack. Whereas Ruthven had been handsome, perfectly-made, and all smiles, but rotten on the inside.

Leer wanted something, of course. He'd ask me to stay and hear him out.

Couldn't trust him too much, of course. Had to see how things went. _All right, Time to get down to business_

I smiled. "Thanks for coming through."

"If you found that payment useful, there might be more in it for you."

"Oh?" I kept my voice innocent.

"Hear me out." _Yep, thought so._

"Ruthven was scum, yes. But he stabilized the area. Kept attention from us and a few others, kept... Well, to be honest, kept us in check as well so we didn t bother the local gangs. Threw a few pieces of work our way, now and again."

He stood, and paced. Not far, it was a small room. "It might surprise you, but we don't have too many expenses. As long as we stay fed, the money just piles up."

"Go on."

"But now one of our chief sources of fresh bodies is gone. As is one of our best job-providers. What's more, the gangs and syndicates are quite unlikely to honor past agreements. Not with Ruthven gone. And you know what happens when there's a power gap of this nature?"

I'd seen enough crime drama back in my 20s. "There's going to be a war."

"Most likely. It strikes me that one of Ruthven's children may demand some respect, from the Yaks if nothing else. From the gangs and other small fry, well, fear's more likely. But fear's good enough for them. And right now they don't fear us enough. After all, what are ghouls? Scavengers. Vermin. Dead meat moving, that can be killed with enough bullets." A little bitterness had crept in there.

"But vampires, now. Vampires are predators. Legends. Very, very hard to kill, and very good at killing."

Hoo boy. Did he ever have the wrong bloodsucker. Still, it wouldn't do to say that. He continued:

"In the weeks to come, it might be useful to have you... On the books as an asset. See, we don't want to rise to the top of the heap. That's too open, too exposed, and we lack the resources to hold the spot. This I admit... I can't replace Ruthven, nor do I want to. But we don't want to end up on the bottom of the heap. Because in what's to come, the bottom of the heap is synonymous with death. And I rather like my life, and would prefer not to see my pack die either."

Synonymous? Good lord, this guy was sharp. I liked him even more. Couldn't help but wonder what he'd been before he was turned... Whoops, he was looking at me now. Guess he wanted a response.

"So how can I help? Be a good asset? And why should I, anyway?"

"Well, like I said, we don't have many expenses. We can afford to pay you for your troubles."

"That doesn't answer the big question. What do you want from me?"

He opened and closed a large hand. "Right now, just keep an ear out. If you hear anyone talking about Ruthven or the local drug business, give us a call. I will pay you for any good information you turn up. If, somehow, you find a way to be our advocate in a situation that matters, please do so and we will reward you after the fact. Also, if you create or find any corpses that are no more than a few days dead, we'll take them off your hands and give you a small fee for your troubles. Finally, depending on how the situation turns out, we might need your talents on our side for a few tasks."

"And what talents would those be?" I was honestly curious. I hadn't shown them many tricks.

"You've got a natural appeal, a gift for attraction and negotiating. No, more than natural. It's augmented. Your magic is probably boosting it, I'd wager. But in any case, you've definitely got the makings of a talker. We can use a face. I've not got much of one, you see." He tapped a cheekbone. Of course he had a deadpan sense of humor- Wait.

I blinked. "Wait. Magic?"

The charred eyelids rose a fraction. "You didn't notice?"

"I don't have magic."

He shook his head. "You ARE young. All of us afflicted by the HMMV strains have magic. Vampires are particularly strong. Comes with the disease."

Holy fuck. Holy FUCK! My old dream had been realized, and I hadn t even noticed. I didn't know what to feel, but decided to shelve it for later.

"So Ghouls have magic too?"

"Yes. Usually fairly limited, though. Just enough to get us into trouble. There are a few of us out there who have some useful tricks, though. Me, for instance... I can taste lies." He smiled even more widely, let a gray tongue flick around his yellowed teeth.

Oh drek.

"So, would you like to turn to mist and go up through the vents? It's a shorter way out then walking all the way back."

I blinked again. He'd known. I'd told him back on the street that I could shoot Becka and mist away but he'd known I couldn't.

I started to shake. I'd come so CLOSE to dying and I hadn't even known it... A raw sob escaped my throat. It sounded like a small animal dying.

"Easy, easy. There's no harm in being young, just remember that there are older things out there. And you've been quite honest besides that initial untruth. Your information will be useful, and my offer still stands. What do you say?"

_Riding the tiger, riding the tiger..._ No. No, I d never even gotten on the frakking tiger, just thought I had. The tiger could have devoured me at any time.

Still might, if I gave the wrong answer. But I found myself asking anyway.

"What happens if I say no?"

He sat down. "Well, you're free to go. But I wouldn't come around here again If I were you, and if you bother me or mine again..." He picked up the sledgehammer, and showed me the handle. Old wood, bloodstained. "I think that if I beat you to a pulp and eat your brain you won't be a problem for long."

I nodded. Thought hard for a minute. I believed him. Believed I'd make it out of here, if I said no. He seemed like someone who didn't lie when he didn't have to. That made my choice for me.

"I'd like to work for you." My voice had firmed back up again, good. Was that my magic at work, or self-control? Hell, maybe they were one and the same.

"Good." He offered a hand, and I shook. Something pressed into my hand, and I opened it to see an hexagonal steel nut, big enough to fit my finger. "Wear it openly around here. You won't be bothered as you come and go. Here's my comm number if you need to talk and can't do it face to face." My commlink chimed, as he waved a hand through the hologram. "Reception is lousy down here, but keep trying, you ll get through."

I rose, and he nodded, remaining in his seat. "Hey. Thanks." I said, sliding the nut onto a finger.

"You remember the way out, I trust?"

"Yes."

"Good evening, then."

I shut the door behind me as I left. A few of the pack looked up, then stared as I crossed the garage, my hand with the bolt on it clearly displayed. It did its job and no one bothered me.

I passed by the chained girl on the way out and took a little time to study her. Studied the bowl next to her, full of fly-covered meat. There were bones poking out of it, and I saw toes.

I'd signed up to help monsters. Leer had been honest, and Becka seemed nice... But then you had Lloyd, and that other one who'd wanted to eat me. And at the heart of it, they ate people. But then, so did I. Kind of.

Hell.

I was hungry again. And tired of being around ghouls. Heading past the sentries with the guns, I started picking my way back up through the darkness.

Sometimes you ride the tiger, some nights he takes you out for a spin instead. Any time you get out of there alive, you're ahead of the game.

Thoughts later, rest now. It had been a long night.

I'd call RPM in the morning.


	23. On the Prowl

**I do not own Shadowrun or aim to make any money as a result of this story. The setting is used without the permission of the appropriate corps, and is simply an exercise in amusement. Please don't sue me.**

CHAPTER 23: ON THE PROWL

The Bunker's door was open.

That snapped me out of my thoughts, brought my attention back to where I was, made me look at the shopping strip with new eyes.

The security guards were gone. And while there was a fair amount of traffic on the streets, no one was going in or coming out of the shops. Even the Thai Me Up wasn't pulling in any people... And at nearly 11 at night, that was weird. Should be peak hours for them. Something was wrong, and after the night I'd had, I didn't want any part of it.

I kept walking. And sure enough, though it was hidden pretty well, once I was down the street a little ways I had a pretty good angle to see the armored van tucked behind the strip of shops. The same type that had been rounding up metahumans tonight.

Damn.

There went my coffin. More to the point, there went my matrix access. NOT good. Time was running out on my commlink's utility. If RPM had been right with his initial assessment, then that fake user ID he made for me wouldn't hold up much longer. Now what?

A rumble in my stomach made me wince. Oh yeah. That... That was going to be awkward, especially with all the cops out tonight. In fact, now that I was considering it, who the hell was I going to eat?

I'd been lucky before. The choice had been made for me repeatedly, since I had gotten free of Master. Up till now I'd had enough people trying to attack or hurt me that I'd been able to stock up after I killed them. Up until now, I didn't have to think about it much. They'd tried to kill me, and I'd killed them right back, and hey, be a waste to let all that yummy red stuff hit the pavement. Slurp slurp and don't think about it too hard.

But the fact of the matter was that I wasn't going to always have that luxury. Sooner or lat- bah, no, SOONER at the rate my stomach was cramping, I'd have to go after somebody who wasn't trying to kill me. I'd have to go hunting. Tonight.

Which meant I'd have to find somebody, get both of us to a private place where I could do a little necking, and... Then what?

No, really, then what? Do I kill them? It'd stop them from becoming a vampire, definitely. It'd make sure they didn't go to the police and yell about being fanged. On the downside, bodies were noticeable. But I had a new bunch of friends who were good at body disposal, now didn't I? Of course, making sure the private spot was someplace they could get to, or finding a way to drag the body along would be tricky... Wow. Lots of complications.

I'd also be killing someone just for the sake of keeping myself safe. Someone innocent, or at least someone who'd never done a thing to harm me. I wasn't sure I could do something like- Mm. No. No, couldn't lie. I was pretty sure I could do something like that if I had to. I just didn't want to. That'd be crossing a line.

On the other hand, if I bit someone and didn't kill them, they'd be in a joygasm until I was done. But after it wore off they'd know I was a vampire. So then they'd go to the police, and yell about being fanged. And what if I turned them into a vampire? It was a virus, so it could probably spread if I bit them. Maybe if I cut them with a knife and drained the blood... No. Then they'd go to the police and yell about serial killers. Jesus, what a mess. The vampire books never get into this sort of crisis! It's EASY for those guys. They don't get into the fact that there's an entire logistics chain of STUFF you have to take into account if you want to do this and survive!

Alright, alright. I was wasting time, and my gut wasn't getting any less hungry. Decision time. And after considering it, I decided to leave my future juicebox alive, as long as the situation allowed it. I mean, it was probably going to be messy and complicated either way, so I might as well not have a (possibly) innocent kill on my conscience. What was left of my conscience, anyway.

Okay. Down to business.

After a bit of consideration, I decided that it was about time to quit the Avenues. No telling how long the police would be in the area, and everyone was on edge. They'd rounded up the freaks and managed to miss me, and I didn't want to push my luck again. That said, I had to eat and the sooner the better… So why not grab a bite before I went? The stomach liked that idea. So I started looking around for targets as I walked. Targets that had reasons NOT to go to the cops. That seemed safest.

The gangers had faded away. The homeless were off the main streets. The nightlife was muted and wary. So what did that leave…?

In a word, prostitutes.

They hadn't changed much, in fifty years. Still under or overdressed, still flocking in crowds, still with that air of desperation. Fake smiles and hurt behind their eyes, and if each and every one of them didn't look to me like a walking scoop of haagen-dasz right now I'd feel horrible for what I was considering. Hell, compared to my degradation theirs was minor, but it was still a shadow of what I'd gone through and I was going to put them through something as bad, if not worse.

The police had chased most of the pimps away, but they hadn't bothered with the prostitutes. Boy and girl alike, they stood at the corners and the curbs and called to passers-by, who mostly ignored them.

Long story short, I found a girl with vacant eyes and not enough meat on her bones, and talked her into taking me up to her place. Her place turned out to be a grungy apartment building with trash in the halls and drooling junkies in the corner landings, their eyes covered with black glass lenses. Whatever they were watching made them high. Digital drugs? Not sure, and I was too busy being focused on the girl's haunches moving ahead of me on the stairs. So many arteries, so close… Mistaking my look, she smirked back at me. I fought to keep my lips shut as I smiled back. The fangs were out of their sheaths.

In the past I'd had guy friends who complained about the difficulty of hiding erections while wearing tight pants. Now imagine your teeth causing the same sort of problem with your mouth. Fang-boners... Kinda kills the vampire elegance right there, neh?

Her room turned out to have an open door and a troll sitting on the outside of it, looking me over with hard eyes. It had been a long time since I'd seen a troll up close and personal like… Big. VERY big. At least ten feet tall, judging by his sitting height. Muscles that were bigger than my head. A pair of broken, twisty horns, and tusks that looked like they could open cans. All that wrapped up in an oversized leather jacket and torn jeans. He held up a comm. and I clicked "AUTHORIZE", and that was a hundred nuyen gone.

The girl's eyes were still blank as we lay down on the stained bed.

Midway through undressing, I was close enough that I could finally get my fangs into her neck.

Oh. Oh lord. I could feel her heartbeat through every vein of my body… Her sweat was no longer sour and bitter, but a bouquet to rival the finest of wines. The taste of her blood on my tongue was every drug I'd ever had, every good trip, all at once. The HUNGER rose up in me, and I felt myself on autopilot, as I fed and she let out a moan and slumped against me. This wasn't like feeding on Vylent, that punk way back in my first days out. Then I had been hurried. Then I hadn't had time to focus on the feeding. But now? Now I had all the time in the world, and ah my friends and oh my foes, let me tell you it was HEAVEN.

And under it, under the blood taste and the smells and the shuddering girl's skin against mine, I could feel her pain. I could feel the agony as her nerves screamed at her, like pulling at an infected tooth cranked up by a factor of a ten… Pure agony, but in a way it felt so GOOD…

I can't explain it properly. Maybe if someone's particular kink was for pain they'd get it, I guess. I wasn't, at least I hadn't been, but it clicked into my mind that this was the PROPER way of things. When I'd taken blood from corpses and the recently dead before that, it wasn't just the blood I'd been taking. The nerves, the key was in the nerves… They reacted with my bite, and absorbing the pain was just as important as the blood, if not more so. What I'd been able to get from dying nerves was nothing compared to living ones, and I knew that going back to the meager meals I'd had before now would be hard as hell.

Okay. Maybe being a vampire had its perks.

Speaking of which, she was getting limp in my arms. Uh-oh. I freed my teeth and licked her wounds. In some books, I read that this caused clotting, maybe the legend was legit… Nope, blood was still oozing up. Slowly, though. I checked her face, and she blinked groggily a few times. Putting my head to her thin chest revealed a decent heartbeat… Was this going to be enough for me? I considered her… Still a slight pull to feed more, but the edge was definitely off. It was more the smell of her blood that was drawing me. My stomach seemed quiet for the moment. Yeah, probably not safe to continue… I wasn't a doctor, but she looked kinda shaky, and it wouldn't do to have her bleed out.

In a matter of seconds I'd gone from feeling guilty about drinking her to seeing her as a minor obstacle, her possible death a mere annoyance.

I didn't know how to feel about that. And I'd have to keep doing this over and over again if I wanted to stay "alive" and "healthy." I wondered if they made psychiatrists for vampires? Support groups?

Eh. Angst later, act now.

I wadded up the filthy sheet and pressed it to her neck as she lay back, gasping. I felt better, stronger, and she didn't weigh much more than a kitten as I rearranged her on the bed, and stroked her forehead. "Thanks," I whispered.

After rearranging my clothes, I started out the door… Only to be stopped as the troll stood up and stepped in front of me. All ten-eleven feet of him.

"Um. Problem here?" I asked.

"Null perspiration. Chilla sec. Hey, Manda?"

I tensed. The girl on the bed groaned.

The troll frowned down. "Manda?" He called again. The girl didn't respond. His scowl got broader, and small eyes caught mine. "You give her something? She ain't sposed to be usin'."

I stared back at him. Vampire strength or no, he could probably turn me into sausage. Blood sausage. Okay, Leer had said I had natural appeal, magically-boosted appeal. Let's see if I could talk him out of my face. I rearranged my features into a friendly smile. "She's fine. Let her rest. Get her some goddamn takeout, huh? She's too thin."

It might have worked, if I'd taken the time to brush my damn teeth. I'll never know. The second I started talking, his eyes riveted to my mouth and widened, and his nostrils flared, as the bloodscent hit him. He might not have known WHY I was doing it, but he knew WHAT I had been doing!

The ham-sized fist caught me somewhere around the gut. Turns out a punch from a troll feels exactly like you think it would, and it knocked any potential fight right the hell outta me. I bounced off the opposite wall and fell, as he chased after … He was moving fast, way too fast! Why the hell WAS it that all the big bruiser guys I'd run into could move so quick! I coughed, and tried to sit up, just in time to feel his boot on my leg. _Aw no, don't tell me-_

CRACK! I screamed. But even as I did, I felt the bone worming under the skin, and the muscles popping back. To cover my regeneration, I curled into a fetal position, clutching my knee, and rocked. It hurt, yeah, but I'd had worse. Still wasn't fun.

"You sick FRAK." The troll rumbled, glaring at me a second to make sure I wasn't going anywhere. "You don't go nowhere. I'll be BACK for you." He scooped Manda into a fireman's carry, and jogged out of the room, clutching her like the world's biggest, ugliest baby with a teddy bear.

I gave him ten seconds, then tested my leg. Wobbled a bit, but I couldn't stay, I could hear him yelling from somewhere else in the building. I fled, gimping all the way. It hurt, but I took the stairs two at a time, fell down a few of them to a landing, hissed at a junkie that started crawling toward me. I kept going, and by the time I was out the door my knee was working properly again.

Well.

That could have gone better.

On the upside, he probably thought I was just a killer. Hadn't connected the dots to "Vampire", yet.

Out on the street, I forced myself to slow down and walk casual, and used my tongue to poke around the inside of my mouth, cleaning as best as I could. Once safely away, a check in a nearby window assured me that I'd gotten the noticeable stuff off, anyway. Okay. That hadn't been pleasant, but I'd survived. Net total for the night was still positive, too. Money in my pocket, a bunch of useful new contacts, and a goal about to be met, assuming I could get a call out.

Now how to go about that?

The better kinds of hotel would probably be picky about who they let in. They'd want a SIN, at least. Another coffin hotel? I didn't know where to find one that was safe. The Bunker had been the perfect balance of safety and sleaze… Just crooked enough I could spend money there and surf the matrix with little risk, but safe enough I hadn't been bothered- well, besides that one would-be mugger, but I'd resolved that well-enough. Anyway, the point was that I couldn't be sure another coffin hotel would work out.

So. What did that leave?

Libraries sometimes had free internet, back in my day. But even back in my day, there hadn't been many of those around. They'd been closing left and right, as governments shrunk and corporations started calling the shots. I was willing to bet that if there were any left, they wouldn't be in conquered San Fran.

Universities, on the other hand… They had free internet sometimes, or at the very least, free for their students. Weren't always so good about security, either. Could I use this? Did that free internet turn into free Matrix over the decades? I thought maybe it was possible. Depending on how things had changed… I looked about the right age for a student. The clothes were a little grungy, but if I went for a public school versus a private one… Yeesh, more assumptions.

I sat on the doorstep of a boarded-up building, well AWAY from the wooden planks, and mulled my options. And thinking it over, I decided to give it a shot.

Hell, I'd made more progress in one long night than I had in about a week or so of scurrying around and reacting to things. I'd gotten money, made some unusual friends, fed properly for the first time (sorry Manda, hope you don't turn,) and survived a bad situation without (probably) being outed. I'd done all that by taking risks and acting like I knew what I was doing.

I wasn't the same bedraggled survivor that had crawled out of the bay, and needed rescuing from juvie gangers. I wasn't the same naked pet that had clung to her Master's throne and rolled over to avoid beatings, time and again.

I didn't know where I was going, but I was making PROGRESS, and I liked it. Liked that a lot.

So when I finally managed to hail down a cab that stopped, I told the metal grillbox on the driver's partition (No windows here,) to take me to the University. Didn't tell him which one, nor did I care. If it didn't work out I'd go somewhere else. The night was young, but I was old, and while I didn't know how long things would keep going my way I'd milk it for all it was worth.


End file.
